


A Sparrow in Berlin

by bekindplsrewind



Series: Hellfire and Church Bells [2]
Category: Angel - Fandom, Angel The Series, AtS, Buffy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, angelus - Fandom, dru - Fandom, drusilla - Fandom, spike - Fandom
Genre: 1943, Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Freeform, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer - Freeform, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), OC, OFC - Freeform, Spike - Freeform, WWII, World War II, World War Two, btvs, hellfire and church bells, hfacb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bekindplsrewind/pseuds/bekindplsrewind
Summary: Sequel/miniseries to 'Hellfire and Church Bells' (HfaCB). (Please read that to prevent spoilers.) Set in 1943 in the midst of WWII, a stranger shows up at Elizabeth's door that she never thought she would see again. A lot of time has passed, but despite the changing times of fashion and hairstyles, a face will remain the same—if you're a vampire.





	1. Part I: All Quiet on the Western Front

**Author's Note:**

> For newcomers, I'd highly recommend you read the first part to this series— _Hellfire and Church Bells_. There'd be a lot of confusion as to what they're referring to, but it'd also prevent spoilers if you were wondering about their past and history.

**Berlin, Germany - September 8, 1943**

Off a dirt road on the outskirts of Berlin sat a small thatched cottage, its red bricks partially exposed from weather worn and peeling paint. It was half hidden by foliage from trees and overgrowth of shrubbery- a much needed camouflage, especially during the day- but the tall stalks of sunflowers that towered over may have given clue to the personal dwelling. A gate that had run the perimeter of the front yard was now stripped for firewood, leaving only the deep rooted posts as reminders of what once had been. Despite its less inviting appearance, there was a dirt walkway that led to the front door- if it wasn't overlooked.

A dog's bark was heard from inside, a call for attention over the low humming drone of upbeat trumpets and the tremulous vocals of a baritone singer.

"All right, Victor," Elizabeth laughed lightly as she glanced over her shoulder towards a large black German Shepherd. His eyes followed her motions as she shuffled some papers aside on the table before getting up; he sat at attention.

Elizabeth only responded with a lighthearted giggle as she walked into the sitting room to wind her gramophone, finding Frank Sinatra's voice resembling a bit like the wailing of a haunted ghost as the record slowed. "That's better, Mr. Sinatra," she said quietly. She hummed along with the American jazz singer before she began to sing absentmindedly herself.

Victor shuffled his paws, causing his claws to clatter against the hardwood floor as Elizabeth lingered back into the kitchen. She giggled at him again, taking humour in how astute he was. "All right, boy," she bent down and pet his head, "you'll get your fill soon enough," she smiled.

Righting herself up, she returned to her station and tidied up her papers into a neat stack, then set the thick hardcover book that lay unattended on the table on its end with an audible 'thunk'; Victor had since followed closely from behind and watched curiously from her side. Elizabeth scratched the edge of the cover to reveal a ripped seam along it before carefully slipping her papers between the cardboard and buckram. Ensuring that they were flush and concealed, she ran a finger across the edge. With a curt and satisfied nod, she set the volume down and sipped at her tea as her eyes glazed over the dust jacket-  _Mein Kampf-_  'My Struggle'- the autobiography of Adolf Hitler.

"Shall we retire to the sitting room?" she asked out loud, her voice resolute in her already-made decision. With book clutched in one hand and tea and saucer balanced in the other, Elizabeth walked with confidence into the other room whilst a quiet tapping trailed behind her.

Sitting down in an armchair by the gramophone, she let her tea rest against her lap before opening a drawer where her player sat; Victor settled down by her feet and rested his head atop his paws. Without much of a second glance, she shoved the hardcover inside and shut it, happy to have it out of her sight. She let out a soft sigh as she smoothed out the wrinkles on the skirt of her yellow dress before turning to her side. Wedged between the armrest and cushion was a book that translated to: 'All Quiet on the Western Front', a book that Elizabeth had managed to salvage before the book burnings began almost a decade ago. When she had first learnt of this atrocity, she had lost all hope in humanity. Since then, she had visited as many bookshops she could find, hunted down as many titles that were deemed banned, and hoarded them into the safety of her walls. She fished out the rare and sacrilegious edition and settled it against her lap, finding the page she had left off, and resumed reading.

She was soon joined by a small tumble of marmalade fur that lept up onto her lap. "Annabelle," Elizabeth chastised softly as the kitten blocked her view from reading, her tone more loving than cross. The kitten peered up at her with round blue eyes as it elicited a trill in greeting, perching itself up with white mitten paws at the edge of the book and exposing a small bib of white across its chest. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at that endearing image, only to lift her wobbling tea out of the way; she set it down on top of the portable radio that sat facing her, next to the gramophone. Making room for her small and self-inviting guest, she held the book open with one hand and allowed Annabelle to nestle comfortably in her lap. The night wore on uninterrupted as vampire absentmindedly stroked the warm kitten's fur, with the backdrop of the sultry crooning of the American jazz singer and the occasional sound of page turning.

_I'll be seeing you in all the old, familiar places_  
That this heart of mine embraces all day through  
In that small cafe, the park across the way  
The children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well…

The tranquility of the evening was cut short by the sound of an invasive and loud crash. Elizabeth immediately sat up alert, just as her dog scrambled up on his hunches and began to bark incessantly. Her eyes automatically swept to the windows, seeing that they remained taped and intact, ruling out a possible air raid bombing. No, it couldn't be, she thought, she hadn't heard any planes overhead, and the blast would have been much louder. She paused to listen to any additional noises to follow, but things were still other than the noises coming from her own home. Whatever it was, it had been close.

"Shh… it's all right, Annabelle," Elizabeth said softly; the kitten remained staunch and shivering from fright. She pet its arched back soothingly, lifting it gently as she pried its claws out from her skirt. "Victor!" Elizabeth said in a warning tone as she held the tiny mewling creature to her chest, finding that his barking was only adding to the kitten's anxiety. Victor's barking only grew more aggressive, ignoring the cautioning command of his mistress- but for good reason. It had only been a short two minutes since the unsourced sound of collision, but three slow and menacing knocks came at her door.

Elizabeth stood with her eyes fixed to it; Victor was in vigilant mode: body tensed, legs locked, and fur standing on end, he growled at the unseen intruder. "Victor,  _platz!"_ Elizabeth commanded tersely with a snap of her fingers. This time, the dog obeyed, but not without a whisper of a growl as he lay his head down between his paws. "Watch your sister," Elizabeth set Annabelle down on the cushion before heading towards the door.  _Perhaps it's dinner,_ she thought.

_I'll be seeing you in ev'ry lovely summer's day_  
In everything that's light and gay  
I'll always think of you that way…

As she pulled open the door, she was met with the sight of a man facing away. He had his right hand pressed against the brick siding in the doorframe as he leaned his weight against his outstretched arm, a pose that read too relaxed and even cocky. Elizabeth's gaze swept over his form, noting the dark Nazi coat he wore, which was even more clearly indicated on the armband around his left arm. He raised his left hand to his face, removing the unseen cigarette he was smoking as he exhaled a stream of smoke into the night air. Finding it an easy opportunity to take him out off guard, Elizabeth morphed her face and loomed forward towards him.

… _I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new  
I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you…_

He flicked the butt into the night air before suddenly turning around; his eyes settled on her face, " _Guten Abend,_ Elizabeth," he quirked a familiar and charming smile.

Elizabeth's face relaxed back into her human guise as she slowly lowered her hands, "...William…?" her eyes were round, taken off guard with his unexpected visit. It had been sixty odd years since she'd last seen her sire, but she'd have recognised that toothy smirk anywhere. His hair was trimmed short, dyed black, and slicked back, a style that was common for SS Nazi soldiers. Other than that small change, his face remained the same- save for a very distinct and distinguishable Y-shaped scar on his left brow.

Spike paused. "Hey, were you just about to eat me?" he narrowed his eyes slightly as he passed a look of disapproval over her.

Elizabeth sighed.

"And I go by 'Spike', now," he said, brushing past her without waiting for an invitation.

It was at that moment that Elizabeth's back tensed and her grip on the open door tightened. Her gaze drifted vacantly to the ground in front of her as her mind raced: What exactly was her sire doing here? After all these years, why now? How did he find her? What was his purpose?

Elizabeth's eyes darted from side to side as she looked out to the dark landscape of her front yard, trying to spy any shadowy figures lurking in the shrubs and overgrowth. She shut the door behind her in an effort to silence her paranoia, but she remained unsettled as she directed a steely gaze at her sire. Did  _he_  send him? She clenched her fist by her side.

Instinctively, Victor perked up as he sensed the sudden tension in his mistress and scrambled forward to bark and growl at the intruder who was cause for it.

Spike balked at the snarling beast, "Bloody hell!" ribbons of drool flung from the black dog's sharply exposed maw. "Would you get that ill trained mutt outside where it belongs?!" Spike lifted a foot forward only to have Victor snap at his boot. "Bloody Christ!" the vampire glowered at the thing and reluctantly shuffled back a step.

Elizabeth stood motionless as she watched all of this from the doorway, wary of her sire like he was a stranger.

Spike turned on his spot to face her, "Aren't you going to do something!" he scowled.

Elizabeth's face was a hardened mask as she stared back into his eyes, "Victor," she broke his gaze to look past him towards her companion, " _komm!_ "

Victor barked one last time at the male with an effort to snap at him as he strut past to his mistress. He nuzzled her tightened fist at her side, nudging at it as her stiffness lessened and her fingers slowly unravelled like petals opening. He licked at her palm and the underside of her fingers till some life twitched into them.

Elizabeth's fingers curled over his snout and she let her hand drift over to the top of his head as she pet him, " _Braver Hund,"_ she said softly, her eyes looking down at him with affection and appreciation.

"Doesn't seem to be housetrained, I take it," Spike commented.

Elizabeth kept her hand on Victor's head as she peered up at her sire; a low rumble was elicited from Victor's throat at Spike's slight jab. "Victor,  _Fuß,_ " Elizabeth commanded with more force in her voice. In turn, he trotted over to her left side and sat down. Elizabeth's left hand found a home at the top of his head, a touch that was approved with a small wag of his tail.

"Want me to get the door?" Spike said snidely.

"Victor stays," Elizabeth replied sharply, her eyes piercing and challenging; Victor stared at him with just as much intensity.

Spike narrowed his eyes at his progeny, the both of them stubborn and unspeaking for a stifling few seconds; the rolling sound of static from the gramophone filled their silence. "Fine," he finally spoke, "but keep  _that thing_  away from me." Victor growled with a shared sentiment.

Spike wandered forward as he had initially sought out to do before being rudely intercepted by his progeny's lowly beast. "This your place?" his eyes slowly trailed from the ceiling to the walls of the open room, taking in the full scope of what was in front of him: the walls were bare, free from any portraits and paintings, but there was a sheepskin that draped over one wall, and several bundles of dried flowers and herbs that seemed to be randomly hung at lonely intervals of Elizabeth's wall space.

"Yes, it is," she watched him closely from behind, taking a small step forward with Victor at her heel.

"Kinda… remote. Cosy," Spike sniffed. He pushed back his coat and placed his hands on his hips as he took another glance around, "Hmph."

Elizabeth's fingers glided down to the back of Victor's neck, "Yes, away from the main city. I prefer it that way," she said rather flippantly, but she was cautious with his line of questioning.

"Guess you do prefer the German countryside after all," Spike mumbled.

Elizabeth raised her brow slightly, being reminded of a distant memory they had shared in the past in Frankfurt, and an incidental witch hunt gone wrong. Taking a small breath, Elizabeth fought her small bout of nostalgia, determined to keep herself guarded, "What brings you to Berlin, Will?"

He turned around enough to pass an annoyed side glance at her, "'Spike'," he corrected her. "Well," he reached into his coat and withdrew a box of cigarettes; Elizabeth's fingers wound tighter between Victor's fur as she watched his hands, "I been goin' on about my business, travelling here and there- being worldly, you see," he tapped the box, then pulled a loose cigarette out with his lips, "but I've been havin' dreams of you," the cigarette wagged from his mouth as he spoke; his eyes were focused on the tarnished lighter he shook in hand, having trouble getting it to properly light.

Elizabeth's eyes loomed up to his face.

Spike paused, "Premonitions, I mean," he clarified, realising what his former words might have implied. Having finally lit a flame, he brought it to the end of his cigarette and puffed before flicking the case shut.

"Dreams… premonitions…," Elizabeth echoed softly, glancing down to Victor as she ran her fingers through his fur.

"Though, honestly, I didn't think you'd actually be here, but here you are," Spike smiled wryly.

"How long did you have them?" she asked without looking up.

"For the past week or so," Spike exhaled on that thought. "Guess this whole sire-childe link proves to be true after all," he said matter-of-factly.

"I had one as well," she confessed quietly, her focus remaining on Victor. It hadn't occurred to her so readily that she had been dreaming about her sire at all. Her dreams were often muddled or altogether forgotten when she'd awaken. At times, they were too vivid and terrifying, she'd have to be reminded where she currently was. But those dreams were far and between now. Having Spike mentioning the time he'd been having his 'premonitions' were strangely accurate to when she'd had one of him. Though it had been vague, it had occurred with his imminent proximity. "Strange…," she commented at her inner speculation.

"Hmm," he raised a brow at her, wondering what she had dreamt about. "So," he exhaled audibly, "it's been a while, hasn't it? What have you been up to as of late?"

Elizabeth walked forward slowly with Victor flanked at her side. Spike watched her from a short distance away as she raised the turn arm from the rolling record and replaced it to the side, "Like you, I've been travelling. Went wherever the wind took me," she said with a small smile; with her back exposed, Victor was her eyes. She turned to face her sire, "I found myself in Berlin after the end of the first war. I lived in the city at one point, but I find that I much favour the bucolic fringe dwellings." She paused briefly, almost laughing at herself for admitting that her sire's side comment had been true. "I like it here. We've made it a home, just the three of us."

Spike raised a brow at her last comment.  _Where's the 'third'?_  he thought.

Elizabeth replaced her hand on top of Victor's head and stroked it gently, "And you? What have you been doing all these years?"

"Well," Spike smiled, happy to have the attention on him, "I'm glad you asked. Might require a lengthy bit of time and a couple pots of tea. Cake and biscuits, perhaps?"

Elizabeth paused briefly before a small smile formed on her lips, "Tea I have, but I would have to make the latter. That would give you some time to tell your story."

He nodded, "Splendid." Without waiting for further instruction, he strutted towards the kitchen.

It was something Elizabeth should have expected from her sire, but his actions still took her off guard. She watched him leave the room before she felt a nudge from beneath her hand as Victor turned to look up at her. Taking a breath, she followed after with her dog padding softly in tow.

She glanced over with a slight grimace as her esteemed guest kicked his feet up onto the table and rocked back onto the legs of her chair. She turned back around with a soft sigh and began to pull ingredients from her cupboards. Drugging her sire to get the truth of his real intentions was an idea that crossed her mind. She did, after all, have an arsenal of herbs and some knowhow of simple spells handed down from a knowledgeable and sage friend. It was certainly tempting, but for now, she decided she would watch him closely.

"Don't you ever get bored here?" he turned to look to her as she set a kettle on the stove. "It's a little too… quiet."

She alarmed him slightly when she'd suddenly marched over and set down a saucer, "Not really- for your ashes," she explained. Turning on her heel, she returned to the stove just as abruptly; Victor glanced over his shoulder at Spike as he followed closely behind.

"Cheers," Spike replied simply, glancing from vampire to dog, only to squint at the thing when he swore it was giving him the evil eye.

"I like the quiet," Elizabeth continued from her last thought as she creamed the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl, "and I go out when I need to," she said, just barely answering his question.

"'Course," Spike sighed with a roll of his eyes. "I knew you were quiet," he took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled through his nose, "but I didn't peg you for a recluse."

Elizabeth made no comment at his observation, whether it was an intentional insult or not.

Spike stretched his arms above his head then folded them back behind as he watched Elizabeth work, "Picked up a new hobby, I see," he noted.

"Among a few," she said absentmindedly, being attentive as she cracked an egg into her mixture.

"Huh," he held the cigarette between his fingers as he pulled it from his mouth and exhaled, "now, where to begin…," he ran his fingers along the length of his chin as he tried to recall from his past memories, his face scrunching up. "Guess it'd have to be after you vanished," he said with nonchalance, looking up to the ceiling.

Elizabeth's stirring slowed.

"Stayed in Nice for a little longer. It was great," he grinned, laughing a little. "Dunno why you were so hasty to leave and all," he peeked at her from his angle as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.

It required a bit of effort for her to focus on her task and keep her tension at bay as she listened to her sire. Did he really not know? Or was he feigning ignorance? She stirred faster to conceal the quiet tremor in her hands as memories of her last night in Nice invaded her mind.

"But we left in a couple months," Spike exhaled. "Angelus got in a foul mood over some rock," he shrugged.

The spoon slipped from Elizabeth's grasp at mention of  _his_  name. Luckily, the clang of the metal bowl was masked by the kettle's whistle. Elizabeth gripped at her hands and tried to steady herself.

"Not what he expected, it seems. Got reunited with Darla, travelled a bit, too."

Feeling a little more confident that she had gotten ahold of herself, Elizabeth spooned some loose tea leaves into her teapot before removing the kettle off the flame. The whistling slowly stopped as she poured the boiling water in. She set the kettle back down, "Let me fetch the milk," she said breathily, already off in a quick stride. "Victor,  _komm_ ," she quipped. Victor jumped to his feet and trotted behind her.

They disappeared into a cool pantry where Elizabeth stored additional foodstuff, as well as other things she didn't want to keep in plain sight. She knelt down to the floor and took a breath to steady herself again as a mental flash of Angelus' snarling smirk entered her vision. With closed eyes, she bowed her head and combed her fingers through her loose curls. Victor shuffled forward and whined, poking his nose in her face and lapping at her hand and cheek.

She reached out blindly and scratched at the side of his face, "I'm all right, Victor," she sighed quietly. The black dog persisted and continued to lap at her face, " _Braver Hund,_ Victor," she opened her eyes and began to giggle. Victor pressed forward, causing her to fall back on her rump and into more fits of laughter. After a minute had passed, Elizabeth turned and reached across the floor for her bottle of milk. Elizabeth pushed herself up and brushed the dirt off the bottom of her skirt. Ensuring her hair was decent, she passed a light hand over her head and pushed the ends up to maintain the volume of her curls.

Spike remained in the same position when she returned with dog in tow. His eyes trailed after her as she strode to the counter, "Took a little while, didn't you." He paused. "Bestiality?" his eyes lowered to the smudge of dirt on the backside of her dress before raising them with a quirk of his brow.

Elizabeth paused, confused by what he meant. She turned around and saw the amused smirk on her sire's face, "Careful with women who are serving you scalding tea, William. You wouldn't want that to incidentally end up in your lap."

Spike's smugness slowly dissolved as his eyes widened and he canted his head slightly to the side out of reluctant abasement.

Satisfied with his reaction, Elizabeth smiled and turned back around to fix her tray. With steady arms, she carried it over to the table and began to set the items down.

Spike settled the chair back down on all fours and removed his feet from the tabletop. "Have you ever been to China?" he stubbed out his cigarette butt as he glanced to her with a sly smile.

"No, I haven't," she kept her eyes on the tea as she served him a cup before fixing herself one. "What's it like?" she turned back to the counter with tea in hand and set it next to her. She began to pour the cake batter into a greased pan.

"Bloody amazing," he laughed, helping himself to some milk and sugar. "Got caught up in the Boxer Rebellion, in the midst of riots- started them for the hell of it, of course- chaos, mayhem, et cetera," the spoon chimed softly against the porcelain as he stirred his tea. "Best of all," he lifted his head to look at her as he grinned, letting the spoon clatter onto his saucer, "came into a Slayer. You heard of 'em?" he asked, raising his brows a bit as he brought his cup to his lips.

"No, I haven't, but the title sounds self-explanatory," she said as she put the pan into the oven. Elizabeth turned around to face her sire and leaned back against the counter, taking her saucer and cup in hand as she stirred her tea slowly.

"Well," Spike brought another cigarette to his mouth and lit it; he leaned forward on the table, "they're supposed to be 'chosen' women that hunt vampires and other ' _scary'_  monsters," he said, wiggling his fingers out at her. "Demons quiver and shake at the mention of ' _The Slayer'_ ," he said with forced and sarcastic emphasis, "but I, on the other hand," he laughed, "I make enough noise to call 'em out," he gave her a toothy grin. "And did I ever make noise," he cackled. "Let's just say that the Slayer was slain," he grinned, "by yours truly," he gestured with a swoop of his hand; Elizabeth set her spoon down onto her saucer before lifting the cup to her lips and took a shallow sip. "Better yet, left me with an amazing souvenir," he indicated with a brush of his thumb; her eyes shifted to his scar again. "Others wouldn't have believed it if they didn't see it. This should be indication enough from the enchanted sword she used on me," he sniffed.

Elizabeth lowered her cup in thought. It was true; throughout all the times she had drawn blood, she had always healed without a scratch, and in miraculous time, too. Seeing her sire with a scar had puzzled her, but the mystery behind it was now put to rest.

"Best night of my life," he hummed, leaning back as he glanced dreamily at the ceiling, reminiscing to that night.

"Fascinating story," she said, being partially truthful.

"It is, isn't it?" He took a sip of his tea, "Done anything interesting around these parts?" he set it down onto the saucer. "I mean, we are in the midst of a bloody war," he grinned, "you must get some wind of what's going on being so close to the  _Führer_."

"I have my hobbies-"

"Let me guess: reading, making potpourri, and baking biscuits for Rin Tin Tin over there," he gestured his head towards Victor who lay by her feet.

"His name is  _Victor,_ " she said between her teeth. The dog turned his head up at her expectantly, "No, not you," Elizabeth said to him a little more quietly. She sighed with a slight furrow to her brow, "As I was  _saying,_ " Spike only smiled at her with amusement, "hobbies- yes, reading is essential-" she emphasised, "but I do do other things, thank you very much." Even though what her sire had said about her was true, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. She let another sigh out and hovered her cup above her saucer, "Music has always been an important part of my life," she nodded towards the gramophone and radio in the other room, "so I make sure to incorporate it daily." She took a sip of her tea before continuing, "And don't be so bloody ignorant," Spike widened his eyes and blinked at that, "other than the rare bits of jazz, all that German radio spills out is Nazi propaganda," she said a little heatedly before taking another sip. She lowered her cup, "I've managed to get some information on the British efforts, but their messages are often scramble. The Americans have joined them now, from what it seems."

Spike held his cigarette between his fingers in his right hand as he lifted his cup with the other, "Hmm," he hummed as he raised his brows, taking a gulp of his cooling tea, "I quite like this game of war. I've got bets on the Nazis," he laughed. Though if it was a joke, it was ambiguous.

Elizabeth peered at him over her tea, "Is that why you came to Berlin?" she asked, trying to skirt around her real question. "I suppose you didn't expect to find me here of all places," she half laughed.

"I didn't mean to," he replied in all honesty and rather bluntly, "I just had a feeling, a curious pull, and I just followed it," he shrugged. "Wasn't sure at all what I'd find in  _Deutschland_ , but here you are," he smiled. "Besides," he continued, glancing down at his cup, "it was too bloody dark out here without proper working headlights. I crashed into a bloody post outside."

She watched him as she finished her tea. Was this true? Or was this a way for him to gain her trust and have her guard down?

"Well, it is nice to see you again," she said, mustering the most sarcastic and disingenuous tone she could. But even as she said it, she knew that it was true. She had missed him. And she hated herself for that.

"You as well," he glanced up at her and smiled.

It was odd.

In all the times they had been together, he had never openly expressed any real appreciation towards her, but decades later, it appeared he didn't have any qualms about it at all. Perhaps the years had added some form of wisdom to him, or maybe he had had time to reflect and appreciate the times they had had together without realising it.

Elizabeth set her empty cup down on the counter. She was dumbfounded. Confused.

"Must get lonely around here," Spike glanced around before settling his gaze on Victor, the black dog keeping an ever vigilant eye on his mistress and this stranger who was speaking to her. "Hope you're not turning out to be some grey, old witch," he eyed her warily.

Before Elizabeth could respond to that offhanded comment, Spike suddenly jolted back in his chair, " _For Christ's sakes!"_  he yelped; he bowed his head as he seemed to be focusing on something below his waist.

Elizabeth immediately straightened up from the counter and hurried over.

From underneath the table, Annabelle was scaling up Spike's pant leg, one little paw at a time. "Get it off me! Get it off me!" Spike shook his leg.

For a brief moment, Elizabeth stood listlessly by as she watched. Her slightly agape mouth had shut, and a slow pull of her lips tugged upwards, just as her round eyes narrowed and crinkled at the sides. Initially being a suppressed giggle, she was soon trying to cover up the peeling laughter from her open mouth. She only bowled over in greater fits as the frantic expressions of her sire grew worse. "H-hold still, now!" she giggled, wiping a loose tear from the corner of her eye. She knelt down and plucked the motivated kitten off of him. "Can't believe you would turn pigeon-livered over a little kitten," she teased, unapologetically grinning from ear to ear.

"The bloody thing startled me!" he yelled in defense. "It's like some overgrown caterpillar," he grimaced as he watched it squirm in her hands, "thinks my leg is some bloody tree," he curled his lips up in disgust.

"Annabelle, where did you come out from hiding?" Elizabeth held it against her chest and gave it a gentle kiss on the head.

Spike continued to scowl at it, "So, you're 'three'."

"Now, young lady, I think you owe someone an apology," Elizabeth giggled as she held her up towards her sire.

He squinted his eyes at the tiny animal before directing his gaze at Elizabeth, "Get your pussy out of my face!"

Elizabeth elicited a mock gasp as she turned the kitten towards her and looked at it in fake bewilderment, "Oh my! Why, I do believe she likes you!" she held it to her chest and grinned at him.

"'Course it does," he continued with his cautious stare. "I know demons that find kittens a delicacy," he said to the feline, only to have it mewl at him weakly again. "Yeah, you better be scared."

"Oh, yes, she is terrified," Elizabeth said with a roll of her eyes. Righting herself up, she returned to the counter where she fixed a saucer of milk. The kitten eagerly lapped at it as soon as she set them both down on the floor. Having witnessed this, Victor turned his head up expectantly at his mistress with an eager shuffle of his paws; his claws clattered against the hardwood. "All right, Victor," Elizabeth said with a soft chuckle. She pulled out a shallow dish and poured a larger serving for her him, "You've earned it," she said, setting it down in front of him. Victor licked his lips before scrambling up and lapping happily at his prize.

Spike had been quietly observant throughout this, "That thing has been givin' me steely eyes since I set foot in here," he pointed out.

"That's because he doesn't like you," Elizabeth replied bluntly as she cracked the oven door ajar. She peeked in before opening it wide and removing the hot pan with a tea towel.

"Well, shan't be an issue after you take him out for the night. He certainly isn't staying here for the duration of my stay," he grimaced.

Elizabeth set the pan down on the counter with a clatter, "Let me make this absolutely clear for you,  _Spike,_  because it obviously wasn't the first time: Victor  _stays_ ," her eyes burned with a finality to her words. "This is my house and he is my dog."

"And I'm your sire," Spike challenged, jutting his chin out.

Elizabeth turned around and picked up her cup and saucer, "Barely," she said under her breath.  _Where were you when I needed you? If you were, you'd have been there!_  she imagined yelling in his face. Her grip tightened on her saucer as she took a breath.

Spike straightened his back and raised his brows.

"But don't worry. You should be relieved to learn he sleeps in my room," she finally joined him at the table with the items in hand. Taking a seat across from him, the chair rumbled beneath her as she pushed herself closer towards the table. Victor soon joined her as he lay down by her feet.

"Huh, so you do share a bed. I wouldn't be surprised. When would you ever bring a man around?" Spike smirked, pressing the near finished cigarette to his lips.

Elizabeth furrowed her brows at him, "No, he sleeps on the floor," she said, not catching the ill humoured joke he had carried on from before.

Spike smiled to himself as he stubbed out the cigarette.

She began to pour herself another cup, "I do have visitors from time to time, if you find that so hard to believe."

"I kinda thought you'd be hoarding some escaped Jews or something of the like."

"More tea?" Elizabeth offered, hovering the pot close by.

"Please," Spike replied. He watched the hot, amber liquid funnel out into his cup almost hypnotically before speaking, "I've gotten rather good at running my own crew, if I say so myself," he boasted with a proud smile. "Hired some muscle for a few things," he glanced to her, "I mean, with Angelus out of the picture now."

Elizabeth paused for a split fraction before she resumed to stirring her tea, watching the calming, swirling ripples of the milky surface.

"He kinda… disappeared on his own for a couple of years before the turn of the century, then more… permanently after the Boxer Rebellion," Spike gave a small shrug as he stirred some milk and sugar into his tea. "Darla's been mum about it. Seems like they've had more than just a lover's tiff. Drusilla was really upset about it, though," he sighed. "Sometimes I'll still find her mooning over his absence," he glanced to her.

Elizabeth sipped at her drink with lowered eyes. With Angelus gone, that meant he could be anywhere, she thought, another chord of fear striking inside of her. But was this really true? Or was her sire just feeding her lines to get her on his side? She raised her eyes to him. She wanted to believe his words, but her paranoia wouldn't loosen its grip on her.

"She wonders about you, too, sometimes," he added.

"Where is she? Drusilla?" Elizabeth asked softly, lowering her cup. She still held a sisterly affection for her, even though she had suddenly treated her with such unexpected malice.

"Dru's on the other side of the continent," he said with his gaze downcast. "She and Darla are spending some girl time together," he sighed. "Could be in the motherland, or Spain," he shifted one shoulder up and let it drop emphatically, not really liking that they were apart. "Can't really stop her, you know?" he looked up at her. "She's never really had any visions of you," he said, "but I'd think it might have to do with proximity. Or maybe that you haven't done much with your unlife," he surmised. "Though, shortly after you had left without saying goodbye, she came to me in tears about you breaking your wings and not being able to fly. Whatever that means," he shrugged again.

Elizabeth was uncertain about the news about Angelus, but Drusilla, she knew that what her sire said about her was true. It was Drusilla's foresight that allowed her to see through the torment and suffering she had endured alone. A shared sisterhood that she had experienced herself, Elizabeth recalled from Angelus' horrific recount. Elizabeth's eyes glazed over slightly, but she refrained from allowing any tears to slip by.

"You should pay Dru a visit. She misses you."

Standing, Elizabeth walked back to the counter, "Perhaps," she said as she stirred some milk together with powdered sugar. "Maybe after the world has settled down a bit," she turned the cake out onto a plate before drizzling the glaze over it.

"I'll hold you to it, then," Spike grinned. "If you don't, we might just plough into town without warning," he teased. He sat up when she returned with the coffeecake in hand, "That smells good," he smiled.

"Thank you," she replied, cutting him a portion, "I have gotten rather good at baking these past years," she cut herself a slice before sitting back down.

"I suppose you would, seeing as you haven't really had many things here to distract you," he picked up his fork and took a bite of the cake, only to raise his brows out of surprise.

"So you like the cake, I presume?" she said with an arched brow, allowing his remark to slide by on account of his pleased reaction.

"I'm not that particular with sweets, but this is nice," he nodded, focusing on bringing more of the warm, spongy goodness to his mouth.

Victor clambered up to his hunches first, preemptively alerting them of the knock that would follow.

"Expecting someone?" Spike raised his eyes to her.

"No," Elizabeth set her cup down and stood as she pushed her chair back; Victor growled low. "Leave through the back door and wait outside," she looked to her sire in all seriousness.

Spike paused to look up at her, "Is this how you treat your guests? Like bloody hell I will. I'm stayin' put," he fed himself another morsel. "You might want to get that," he jabbed his fork into the air when another knock came.

Elizabeth sighed out of frustration, "All right. Just stay put and don't say a word!" She turned on her spot and marched to the front door. Victor was half a step behind her.

"Victor,  _Fuß,_ " Elizabeth commanded; he stood at her heel and sat down. " _Braver Hund._ " Taking a breath, Elizabeth composed herself before she opened the door. Like the first time that night, she was met with a man cloaked in black. This time, however, she believed him to be the rightful owner of his uniform.

He removed his cap and tucked it beneath his right arm, "Good evening, Miss," he said in German. His hair was a neat nest of brown, combed over to the right with strands of silver at the sides; his eyes were cold and grey.

"Good evening," Elizabeth replied, carrying on with the German dialogue.

"I am Heinrich Landau of the  _Schutzstaffel_. I was coming en route from a neighbouring area, but I noticed a fellow officer's vehicle crashed and stranded just outside your door."

_Bloody William!_  Elizabeth cursed in her head. Her sire had led him straight to them!

"Did you see what happened to the fellow officer of that vehicle? His absence greatly concerns me," his eyes lowered to Victor before lingering inside her home.

Elizabeth paused. "Yes, he came to my door to ask for a warm meal and a night's rest before he could continue on." She wasn't exactly lying.

Heinrich looked to her with his cold eyes, "I would like to come inside and look around your home."

Elizabeth smiled, happy to accept his challenge, "Of course. Please, come in," she widened the door, allowing him space to step past.

His eyes swept over the room, much like Spike had when he had barged in, but unlike Elizabeth's unruly and forthright sire, Heinrich of the SS looked like he was searching for something. A low growl rumbled at the back of Victor's throat as he watched this man, but he remained at his mistress's side and did nothing else.

"It is quiet," Heinrich observed, much like Spike had. He moved farther in.

"It is at times when there aren't many planes flying overhead," Elizabeth walked slowly behind him.

The shuffling of his boots stopped short and pivoted to the entryway to the kitchen, "Ah, so you are here."

Spike paused to look up at the man who seemed to be speaking to him. " _Guten Abend._ "

"From the looks of your car, and the story the girl told me, it sounded a bit suspicious. You seem well."

Spike darted his eyes from side to side before looking back to the man and straightening up with a broad smile, " _Ja_."

"After you finish your coffeecake, we can commute back to the city together. No need to prolong your stay here."

Elizabeth loomed up from behind the man and peered at her sire with a look of warning.

Spike flicked a glance at her before returning his attention to the Nazi, " _Ja._ "

"Good," Heinrich nodded and turned on his spot as he resumed his search.

Elizabeth sighed softly as she gave her sire one last stare, thinking how lucky he was that he had answered correctly. She turned to follow the officer, seeing that he had stopped in front of her gramophone.

"From your accent, I take it that you're not from around here. I am not surprised by your poor taste."

Elizabeth drew closer to see him looking down at the record left on the turntable.

Heinrich raised his cold, judging eyes to her, "American jazz is the enemy's music. It is uncultured and stands against what we are striving to build of this great nation."

Elizabeth smiled, "I could barely say that Frank Sinatra was conspiring against the entire nation of Germany- unless he planned to so by wearing holes through the soles of one's shoes and perhaps causing aching feet."

Heinrich's cold eyes bulged, "How insubordinate! This is no laughing matter! I am beginning to question who you side with," he passed a judging sweep over her. "I shall have to conduct a thorough search of your home for any and all forms of paraphernalia," he turned around with a decisive nod. "This shall be confiscated."

"You will do no such thing," Elizabeth replied tersely, her eyes glaring at the man's back.

He pulled the drawer open below the player with some force, causing the hardcover inside to slide forward, "I see that your poor taste in music doesn't extend to your choice in books. That is fortunate." He shut it before his gaze fell to the book she had left on her armchair. "What is this?" he picked it up.

"A light afternoon read."

Throughout Elizabeth's cheeky repartee, she was unprepared for the sudden and shearing sound of pages being ripped into pieces; her gaze fell to the floor where torn remnants scattered at the man's feet.

" _This_  is an affront to the great  _Führer_  and his ideals!" his tearing became more fervent with the sharpness of his words. "This has been long overdue," he lifted the half ruined book and procured a lighter from his pocket.

" _No!_ " Elizabeth shrieked, only to gasp when a small flame soon engulfed the blackening and curling remainders of the pages and tattered cover.

Heinrich dropped the burning book with a look of smug satisfaction, "This is where it belongs." He turned to face Elizabeth with plans of putting her in her place, but his leer was quickly replaced with bug eyes as his words were literally choked off with a tight and unrelenting grip at his throat.

"I was still reading  _that!_ " Elizabeth's eyes were yellow glowing embers, more fierce than the flames that burned to her side.

His hat finally slipped from beneath his arm as he struggled to gasp, shocked at the vision of the innocent woman who had disappeared into the form of a seething demon, and growing fearful he would die in her chokehold. His once cold eyes were now filled with terror.

Elizabeth constricted her hold; allowing her fingers to curl tighter around the man's throat, she felt her nails dig past into his skin. The second time that night, she was thrown off by Heinrich when he brought the same lighter to the side of her face.

She yelped and dropped her hold, instinctively bringing her hand to shield the sharp pain at her lower jaw. " _Scheiße!_ " she hissed. Removing her hand, she raised her head to glare at the man who valiantly tried to fight back against Victor.

Victor snarled and snapped at his boots, taking chances now and then to leap and snap at his hands. The pair danced around each other, the German wheezing in air as he coughed and dodged the animal's attempts. Finding an opportunity, Heinrich quickly moved towards the burning pile and kicked it towards the black dog as a last ditch effort.

"Victor!" Elizabeth cried, watching the flames sail into the flank of her companion.

Victor yelped sharply as he staggered to the side. Elizabeth swooped down and quickly checked his body. He responded by giving her a reassuring lick on the back of her hand.

" _Braver Hund_ ," she whispered, giving him a pat on the head. She rose to her full height and put out the last remnants of the burning flames as she stepped over it.

Heinrich dashed into the kitchen to find Spike still leisurely eating cake, "Quickly now, we must leave at once!" his voice was slightly hoarse; he rubbed at his bruising throat where semi-moons of Elizabeth's nails were permanently etched.

Spike had heard the ruckus in the other room but hadn't bothered to get up. He glanced up at the Nazi officer again, "Uh,  _ja_ ," he replied.

"Have your gun ready," he said, unholstering the sidearm at his belt, "we are in the home of two beasts, one being a demon."

Spike lowered his gaze to the man's gun and simply nodded, " _Ja_ ," he took a sip of tea.

"Get up, man! Now is not the time for coffee!" the man slammed a hand down on the table, causing the China and cutlery to rattle.

Spike paused. " _Nein._ "

Heinrich turned as he readied himself, only to be slammed back against the edge of the table; the tea threatened to spill from the teacups.

"I invited you into my home and this is the thanks I get!" Elizabeth hissed in his face, pinning him to the sturdy fixture behind him.

Heinrich gasped as perspiration broke out across his forehead, struggling to raise his pistol at the screeching harpy. He managed to glance over his shoulder at his unnamed colleague, "Help me!" he turned back to the situation at hand and grunted with some effort.

Heinrich of the SS was not a man of tall stature, nor had a build of impressive musculature at all, but it was the fierceness in his cold eyes which imposed an intimidating nature. Though his frame erred on the side of slim, this did not render him weak. On the contrary, he was stronger than he appeared, and Elizabeth found herself fighting back. Elizabeth held his arm down steadfast, but Heinrich managed to turn the loaded gun towards her body. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Elizabeth gripped his wrist and smashed it against the edge of her table. It loosened his hold on the trigger but not enough for him to drop his pistol.

"Who the  _bloody hell_  burns  _books?!_ " she slammed his hand down again, eliciting a grunt of suppressed pain from him. Spike helped himself to another serving of cake.

"It is on the banned list!" Heinrich retorted in her face.

Elizabeth let out a cry of frustration and threw him back against the tabletop and loomed over him; Spike raised his plate and cup in time to avoid any spills as he resumed chewing. "And how  _dare_ you try to hurt my dog, you  _scum!_ " Elizabeth slammed his hand down again as Victor barked in the background in agreement; Spike merely glanced down at the scene before him as he sipped from his floral patterned teacup. Still, the pistol remained in the German's grip. Elizabeth smashed his wrist down once more before raising it and giving it a quick snap; the crack of bones were loud and audible through the man's cries. The pistol finally dropped.

"After this is over, I'll have you thrown into a concentration camp along with all the rest of the filthy Jews!" he spat, heaving and grimacing through his pain.

Elizabeth gripped him by the throat again before bashing his head back against the tabletop; cutlery jumped and clattered to the floor. His face had turned beet red and his veins bulged at his temples. Heinrich gurgled as he stared up at Elizabeth with glazed and bloodshot eyes, his good hand clasping at her thin wrist as an effort to pry her off. This did little to faze her. He raised his other hand as a feeble attempt to strike her where he had with his lighter. This time, Elizabeth caught him midair.

She twisted his hand even harder that broken bone pierced through flesh and skin. Blood dripped across the table and floor as he flailed his mangled limb, and a low and croaking moan sounded from his throat, the only telltale sign the German officer was suffering.

Using his fingers, Spike dabbed a piece of spongy cake at the spilt blood whilst the man struggled to find his footing. His eyes widened with a raise of his brows as he chewed, the blood soaked morsel turning out to be a welcome surprise.

If the German officer hadn't figured that he wasn't going to receive any help from his tacit colleague, it was now clear from his strange display of borderline cannibalism.

Elizabeth held him in place for a moment as she watched him squirm beneath her. She felt a power, a cruel satisfaction that she had caused him this pain and suffering. It was justified, especially with all the things he had done to her and Victor- and her unfinished book. Feeling her bloodlust curbed, she revealed her jagged teeth and snarled above him, looking for that glint of fear in his eyes before she sank her teeth into his neck. She loosened her grip on his throat, letting the man wail in terror- that was before he began to pray to God for mercy. With that, Elizabeth snapped his neck with little effort and ended his life. She drank in peace till another voice piped in above her head.

"So," Spike let the fork fall over onto the plate and pushed it aside, "this is how you treat your guests," he raised his cup and sipped at his tea.

Her face was smeared with red as she drew back with a gasp, allowing her facade to turn back to that of a young woman. She flicked a look of annoyance at her sire but said nothing as she pushed herself off the corpse and strutted over to her cupboards.

"I must say, good show."

Elizabeth wiped her face clean and only sighed. She returned to the table with an armful of Mason jars and set them down on the floor below Heinrich's dangling arm. Spike leaned to his side and peered over as he observed her.

Using the knife that had fallen on the floor, Elizabeth cut along the length of the dead man's wrist. She let the arm hang as the blood dripped down into the jar below, soon filling it full. She slid the next jar over in one fluid motion as she moved the filled one aside. "You're free to help yourself," she said without looking up as she screwed a lid on.

Spike peered back at the body on the table and the oozing blood from where Elizabeth had drunk from his neck, "Mm, no thanks. I prefer them fresh," he looked back at Elizabeth, "when they're still thrashing and screaming. Thanks, though." It was a little strange having her be the one to offer him blood. She'd always been adamant about certain ways of feeding, but considering the circumstances, she had probably deemed the man as someone evil, a conviction she had always gone by like a commandment.

"Suit yourself," Elizabeth replied nonchalantly, keeping her eye on the jar.

Spike watched her some more before speaking, "What exactly are you doing?"

"I save some blood when I get the opportunity since I don't head into town that often. It isn't as good as it is 'fresh', but it feeds me for a few days," she explained. She switched jars again and watched as the blood slowed to intermittent drips. "It keeps even longer during the winter, a process I discovered through trial and error. Packing snow into an icebox, I found, was the most efficient method."

"Only you would come up with something like that," Spike shook his head.

"'Necessity is the mother of invention'," Elizabeth rose to her feet and retreated with her crimson containers.

She returned shortly with a pail of cleaning supplies. "Do you mind giving me a hand?"

"Uh, I'm not much for cleaning. I'm more of the 'eat and dash' type," Spike tried skirting any duties Elizabeth tried to dump on him.

"I wouldn't expect any less from you," Elizabeth sighed, "but that's not it. Your vehicles, I'll need you to get rid of them."

"Is that  _really_  necessary?"

"Yes, it is,  _Will_ , because it was  _your_  car that tipped him off. You wouldn't want another unexpected guest to pop by, would you?" there was a dangerously annoyed glint in her eye.

Spike stared back for a moment before giving in. "God, when did you become such a bitch?" he pushed himself up from the table, at least happy that he wasn't left on his hands and knees scrubbing blood from the wooden floors.

Elizabeth held her tongue about his comment. "Would you mind bringing his around back after you're done with yours? Thank you."

"'Course, mum," he said, already marching towards the door.

Once outside, it took Spike a while before he located the German's vehicle, having only the light from the partial moon to guide him in the dark. He slid into the driver's seat and found the keys conveniently still in the ignition. After giving them a quick twist, the radio sprang on. It came as a surprise to the English vampire that instead of German classical music filling the small space, he was hearing Bing Crosby. He laughed and began to sing along as he lit a cigarette: " _Oh, won't you tell me when / We will meet again / Sunday, Monday or always / If you're satisfied / I'll be at your side / Sunday, Monday or always…."_ Spike reached across to the glovebox, hoping to pilfer anything off the dead Nazi that could be of use to him. He was in luck, finding a box of cigarettes- since he was running low- and a lighter. He shook it by his ear and heard the fluid inside swish around before testing it- it lit on the first try. With a satisfied snap of his wrist, he shut the case and pocketed his new finds.

The cigarette dangled out the corner of his mouth as he drove forward, spotting his crashed and abandoned car hugging the severely bent over post. "If there's no way around it, you must go through it," he mumbled to himself. Turning inward towards Elizabeth's cottage, he put the car in reverse till he had enough driving space to push forward with some force, then drove towards the side of his vehicle. It swerved away from the dilapidated post, but that force alone was enough to get it back onto the dirt road. With the accelerator pushed to the floor, the tires skidded against dirt and gravel till both cars began to move clumsily away from Elizabeth's hidden homestead. Spike backed up a bit more before crashing back into the side, putting more dents into both his former car and the one he currently possessed. It was with that that the immobilised vehicle tipped and toppled over, tumbling a few metres from the road. Spike laughed and raised his arms triumphantly, "Victory!" he hollered, having Bing Crosby as his only witness.

Continuing on with the second part of his task, Spike drove off the dirt road and around the perimeter of the cottage. He drove slowly, squinting when all he was met with was a field of tall weeds bordering the land. Finally spotting an area where the grass seemed to have flattened due to vehicles passing over it, he turned in and drove forward. The cottage loomed in the distance as he neared, with the image of Elizabeth tossing out her bloody pail water. She disappeared back inside as he moved the car a few metres from the back entrance, only to reappear as she tossed out a charred and crumbling book into the tall weeds.

Spike poked his head out the window as he came to a full stop, "Shall we say a prayer?"

Elizabeth scowled at him.

"Thought it'd be the proper thing to do," he quipped with a raise of his brows; he climbed out of the car as Elizabeth walked towards him. She seemed to have more blood on her dress since the skirmish, Spike observed. Maybe it was the trick of the lighting.

Elizabeth pushed past her sire and ducked down into the driver's seat. Reaching across to the glovebox, she fished through Heinrich's personal effects and pulled out some papers, a pair of driving gloves, and a pistol. She closed the latch and heaved herself to her feet with the items in arms, "This is too out in the open," she turned to her sire, "it can be spotted overhead by aeroplanes during the day. It would have to be relocated by the thicket," she glanced out into the darkness where there was a dense row of trees bordering the land behind her cottage.

Spike took a long drag as he followed her gaze before turning to her, "Considering I'm now without a car," he exhaled, reminding her that he had inadvertently crashed his into the post outside her home, "I'd be more than happy to take this off your hands," he raised his brows.

"Take your pick," Elizabeth said before turning and heading inside.

Spike quirked a brow. Climbing back into the car, he drove slowly where she had indicated. His headlights shone brilliantly as they lit his path, but he was soon blinded by small and inexplicable glares. He squinted as he continued, realising it was only metal reflecting light. Tucked behind and around the thin and scraggly trunks of the trees, were an assortment of similar SS cars, hidden from bird's eye view underneath the safety of the canopies. He ducked his head as he peered out the side window and let out a long and low whistle. Parking nearby, he left his headlights on as he climbed out to observe the collection of automobiles. Some looked like they'd been sitting out there for years, according to the amount of dust and foliage that made a nest and home of them. A few others appeared more recent, and certainly in better shape than the damage he had inflicted on the newest edition. He pulled out his new lighter and flicked it on, bringing it to the side of one of the driver's windows- the keys were still in the ignition. He had a new ride.

Spike turned back to the car and killed the headlights. Slamming the door shut, he set on a leisurely stroll back to Elizabeth's home with his tiny flame as a torch.

As he was passing her vegetable garden, there was the undeniable smell of fresh earth turned over. He paused to glance to his side, making out what appeared to be a dark mound a ways off from where her cabbages grew. He continued as he raised his mini torch in front of him, trying to find his way to Elizabeth's back door. Finally finding the knob, he pushed through and snapped the lighter shut.

The smell of fresh blood instantly hit him. It was more intense than when she had bled the body, he thought. He strutted back into the kitchen to find Elizabeth standing by the stove again with her back to him. The kitchen itself had become spotless in his absence- teaware cleared from the table, and cutlery and blood cleaned and scrubbed off the floor. There was a fresh change of clothes folded on the tabletop that he assumed Elizabeth was going to change into. His eyes trailed to his progeny's lowly dog when he heard smacking sounds coming from the floor.

"Is that…," Spike trailed off as he raised his brows. Victor continued to chew on his cut of meat without bothering to look up at the other humanoid. His teeth gnashed against bone, a loud crunch that could be heard as he ground it between his sharp teeth.

"...Huh," Spike continued. "Well, that's one way to cut expenses."

"How long are you planning to stay here?" Elizabeth asked without turning around.

"Mm, maybe a couple of days. I'm just strolling through the neighbourhood, waitin' to see where else this war will take me," he shrugged lightly as he took a step towards the chair. He noticed the kitten was also nibbling on something that resembled liver. "Do you have somewhere I can rest my weary feet?" he asked, looking back up at her.

The kettle began to whistle, "You may retire to the sitting room," she removed it off the stove and began to pour some of the boiling contents into a basin half filled with cold water.

"All right," he began to walk over there.

"However," Spike paused as she spoke; she turned to glance at him, "don't you dare step foot in this kitchen whilst I'm in here. Be glad that that isn't your leg Victor's chewing on," she warned. Victor raised his head at his name and licked his bloody muzzle with a loud slurp.

Spike narrowed his eyes slightly at the dog before turning to her with a sarcastic smile, "Wouldn't dream of it, love." He found his way into the sitting room and sat down in Elizabeth's armchair. The smell of smoke still hung heavy in the air, and the ashy stain of his progeny's beloved book lay smudged on the floor close by his feet. He looked around him once again and drummed his fingers on the armrests, "Cosy," he yelled.

Elizabeth had stripped out of her blood soaked dress and had it draped over the back of a chair. Standing only in her slip, she dipped a face towel into the steaming water and wrung it dry. She wiped at her face carefully, wincing slightly when she grazed the small burn by her jawline. It had healed considerably since the attack, having consumed the man's blood, but she wasn't completely healed, yet. Elizabeth grimaced as she gingerly touched the area with her fingertips, only to cause her to draw back and hiss slightly. She let out a sigh and noticed a straw-like texture when her fingers brushed against the side of her hair. Running her fingers through her curls, a lock of it fell away into her hand, half crumbling where it had been singed. " _Scheiße!_ " she cursed quietly to herself.

"What was that?" Spike yelled back.

"Nothing," she replied loudly, having to remind herself that she wasn't just speaking to herself and her animal companions, now. "Did you ever visit Paris again?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

Spike reclined back against the cushions and adjusted his Nazi coat; he rolled his eyes out of annoyance, "I avoided it for a few decades for clear reasons, obviously, but Dru and I did visit in the '20s. She wanted to see the Eiffel Tower," he sighed lightly. "We did catch a few beheadings while we were at it. Even saw an 'old friend'," he raised his brows knowingly, "but, of course, I made sure we weren't spotted," he smiled wryly. "I'm sure it's getting its fill on all that anguish at the city square," he commented. "What of you? Do anything exciting in your travels before Germany? Where did you visit?"

"Mostly western Europe. I headed along the line of the Mediterranean, even stopped on by to Morocco. Spent a large portion of time in Italy; it was absolutely beautiful," she said with fondness, shadowed by a dimming in her eyes. Speaking about that reminded her of a conversation she had had about her interest in learning the language; it was by suggestion that she make it her next language to conquer. And she had done just that, having lived there for several years and immersing herself with the people and culture. It was a sweet memory now shrouded in bitterness, something that she didn't want to think about when she had to. She wrung the towel again and began to clean the dried blood and dirt off her arms as she continued, "There were a few eastern European countries en route to Germany. They posed as a bit of a challenge with the language barrier, but I survived."

Spike laughed, "Wouldn't think that'd be much of an issue if you've just got your fangs sunk deep into their necks."

"Blood isn't always the reason. Nor an explanation to everything," Elizabeth sighed out of frustration as she scrubbed at her legs. She didn't hear her sire respond to that, but she sensed that he was smiling with amusement. "Frankfurt was my last destination before Berlin."

"For the memories?" Spike lounged back and stretched his legs out.

"I was summoned. I visited the witch as per our agreement: in exchange for my time, she would help us get to Nice."

Spike turned his head towards the kitchen, "I didn't realise you had made a deal with the old, batty witch," he was surprised.

"I was fearful at the time, yes, being so young and naive. Especially with the notion of her being a witch, but Gertrude is far from being just that. She is very nice company and has taught me a great deal of things in the duration that I lived with her," she let her bloodied dress soak in her cooled basin water as she pulled on her robe, a pattern of pink flowers with a background of periwinkle.

"Right, 'Gert'. Why the hell did she want you there?" Spike snorted; he had never liked her ever since she had threatened to kill him, despite her helping them relocate Drusilla.

Elizabeth tied the belt loosely around her waist before stepping out to join her sire.

"Bet she's all lonely and only wants you as a companion, am I right?" Spike grinned at her.

"Don't speak ill of her. She has become a good and dear friend," Elizabeth's brows drew together tersely.

Spike continued to scoff and rolled his eyes, "'A friend'. Next thing you'll be telling me is you're gossiping and exchanging recipes."

Elizabeth stood idly by and crossed her arms- her sire had been right again that night. "When it was time for me to leave-"

"When she released you."

Elizabeth sighed and continued her train of thought, "-I didn't have plans to where I would go to next. With the end of the first war, the results of it left many countries in the same state of affairs. Recalling the strong musical influence of the city and its theatre led me here, despite the circumstances. I saw it overcome the effects of the war and depression in the '20s, but I did not expect the coming of the second war." Victor joined her and lay down at her feet.

"I'm surprised the Germans didn't peg you for a spy. I'd be suspicious as hell if you were to suddenly pop out of the blue and into my territory."

"Barely," a small smile glimmered on her lips. "One of the reasons why I left the city in exchange for the rural. I could not possibly pose as a threat living so remotely, nor would I say I'm fit for British intelligence." She glanced over her sire, "You're doing well at blending in."

Spike smiled, "You like it?" he smoothed the front of his coat and tugged on his lapels. "Nabbed it off a Nazi. I think it suits me well. Though, I do get stopped occasionally," he frowned slightly.

"I hope you've learnt more German, otherwise, you'd surely be suspected of being a spy."

"My response is always ' _Heil Hitler'._  It seems to go over well enough if I move away quickly," he laughed. "As for my German, haven't paid enough attention to really grasp the language. At least I can say more than 'good night', now," he smiled.

Elizabeth paused. She was ambivalent with her sire, but it was clear he didn't know about her past circumstances. He spoke to her like an old friend, something she had once considered them to be before, but Angelus had led her to believe she was a mere footnote to them. She couldn't shake her paranoia and thoughts. "I'll be retiring for the night," she took a step away; Victor lept to his feet to follow. "I don't have anywhere else for you to rest, other than the armchair. I suppose you could sleep on the floor."

Spike arched a high brow.

"Would you like an afghan?" she offered.

"Please. 'Suppose this old thing will do," he nestled more comfortably in the cushions, "I've had worse situations."

Elizabeth disappeared into her room and shortly returned with a grey crocheted throw, "Have a good night..., Will," she said with hesitance.

He took it from her hands. "It's 'Spike'," he called after her.

Elizabeth closed the door behind her and locked it. She knew it wasn't enough to keep someone like the likes of her sire if he needed to get in, but it gave her some, if any comfort at all. Tugging at the knot at her waist, she slipped out of her robe and climbed into bed. She reached down and pet Victor's head who lay faithfully at her bedside. Ensuring she had full view of the door, she pulled the sheets up to her chest before closing her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **German Translations:**  
>  _Mein Kampf_ \- My Struggle  
>  _platz_ \- down  
>  _Guten Abend_ \- Good evening  
>  _komm_ \- come  
>  _Braver Hund_ \- Good dog  
>  _Fuß_ (Fuss) - (pronounced as 'foose') Heel  
>  _Führer_ \- Leader/Guide A.K.A. Adolf Hitler  
>  _Deutschland_ \- Germany  
>  _Schutzstaffel_ (AKA SS) - Protection Squadron, a major paramilitary organisation under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi party (NSDAP) in Nazi Germany, and later throughout German-occupied Europe during WWII.  
>  _Ja_ \- (pronounced as 'yah') Yes  
>  _Scheiße!_ (Scheisse!) - (pronounced as 'shy-zuh') Shit!/Crap!/Damn!/Bloody Hell!  
>  _Nein_ \- No  
>  _Heil Hitler_ \- Hail Hitler
> 
> * * *
> 
> Initially, when my co-author J. came up with the scene of the SS officer coming to her door, it didn't occur to me she had taken it from 'Inglorious Bastards' (it'd been a while since I'd seen it). She later revealed that to me during my editing process and that it'd be best if I changed his name. Keeping it in the same vein as a sort of parody to the character (as we both now see Christoph Waltz as the perfect model for him), I altered his name slightly, but kept his nature more stern and serious.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Playlist:  
> Frank Sinatra - I'll Be Seeing You  
> Bing Crosby - Sunday, Monday or Always


	2. Part II: Der Spatz

**September 9, 1943**

For the most part in the early morning, Spike had managed to get some rest. He lay reclined in the armchair with the throw haphazardly draped over his form; his arms dangled over the sides, and his legs stretched out in front of him. Unknowingly, in his relaxed state, something pulled at the edge of his knitted throw, causing it to mildly shift. The minute tugging was soon revealed to belong to tiny claws attached to white paws, and a patch of marmalade fur slowly clambered up to Spike's lap with a determined fascination. However, Annabelle didn't stop at that summit, she scaled onward, farther up towards the bulbous peak, one that remained still and silent for once. Her stubby legs shook as she heaved herself upwards, finding her embedded claws sticking into the soft material beneath her, a challenge that she overcame by shaking each paw from its clutches before successfully latching herself a little higher. When she had managed to heft herself by Spike's shoulder, she let out a soft efforted breath through her nostrils, the gentle gust being directed at the vampire's bare neck, something… that was almost left unnoticed.

Spike flinched, his unconsciousness alerting him of something nearby, but not enough to fully cull him from his slumber.

The kitten leaned forward, drawing her twitching and flaring nose at his face with unspoken curiosity. Not realising the proximity of her face to the mass in front of her, she bumped her nose against it.

In that instant, Spike felt something cold and wet prod the side of his face. The sound of a consistent thrumming also drew his attention, causing his eyes to open. He turned his head towards the sound to see that it was that pesky overgrown caterpillar attached to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at it, finding its purring almost akin to a taunt. Grabbing it by the nape of its neck, he lifted it off of him and dumped it on the floor. With a sigh, he crossed his arms and shifted over to his side; he shut his eyes in an effort to get more rest.

He slipped back into sleep easily enough, but was yanked out of it just as quickly, having his senses more acute since his first ambush. Not bothering to open his eyes this time, he plucked her off his shoulder and dropped her with an extended arm. The sound of a loud 'plop' resounded in the darkness behind his lids. Things remained quiet after a moment, and the vampire relaxed back into a state of sleep. But again, that was short-lived.

On the third attack, he felt a warm, gummy texture tentatively dabbing his cheek. He turned towards the kitten with an annoyed glare as the thing retracted its short-limbed leg, "Curiosity killed the cat," he hissed. Grabbing it by the nape, he procured his lighter and flicked it open. Annabelle squirmed in midair and mewled weakly in the soft orange glow that reflected her colouring. Spike heaved himself up and stomped out of the sitting room.

┼†‡

After a short minute, he returned to the armchair with a smug grin drawn clearly across his lips. With a quick snap of his wrist, Spike shut the lighter before slumping down into the cushions. Finally, there was peace and quiet as he drifted off.

┼†‡

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open to darkness, something she had grown used to, but on the rare occasions, she would wake up forgetting she wouldn't be greeted by morning sunlight. That day was one of those unfortunate days.

She bolted upright in a state of panic, her unneeded breathing escalating to heaving as her eyes flitted around in her pitch black surroundings. She felt around her, feeling the folds in her cool sheets; her fingers stumbled over the edge of her nightstand before hitting something that was laying on it- it clattered across the top and dropped loudly to the wooden floorboards. There was a scuttle of claws, the frightening sound of a beast nearby. Instinctively, Elizabeth shuffled away till she felt the wall behind her. The mattress gave beneath its weight as it tried to come closer, and in the hollow darkness, she could make out the silhouette of a large monster climbing towards her. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, she heard whimpering- but it hadn't come from herself, she realised. The creature's warm and wet tongue lapped gently where her hand clutched at her sheets, a touch that caused her to flinch at first, but a soft and high pitched whine reminded her where she was.

She loosened her grip slowly, "Victor…," she breathed, blinking as she saw the dark mound come closer towards her at the sound of his name. She could see the swish of his tail as he wagged it, the sound of her recognition inviting him to comfort her with more languid and loving licks. " _Braver Hund_ ," she said with affection as she scratched the sides of his face between her hands, "thank you for bringing me back." She pulled herself forward and hugged him, allowing his coarse fur to prickle her cheek as she took comfort in his radiant warmth, the sound of his lively heartbeat, and his rhythmic panting.

She pulled back with a renewed smile, "Welcome to another day, old friend."

Victor responded with an emphatic bark.

Elizabeth laughed, "And a good afternoon to you, too!" She shuffled to the edge of her bed and planted her feet down on the floor as she turned towards her nightstand. Knowing the distance of where the drawer was with familiarity and repetition, she pulled it open and retrieved a matchbox from within. The staccato scratch of a match being struck was followed by an immediate hiss as an orange flame was brought to life, casting an eerie glow over Elizabeth's features. She placed the flame to the wick in the kerosene lantern at her nightstand before waving out the match and carefully replacing the glass chimney. The flame grew brighter as she adjusted the regulator, illuminating the small space of her room.

Finally pushing herself up, Elizabeth picked up the brush that had been knocked to the floor and began to pass it through the waves of her hair. She sat herself down at the mirrorless vanity table, taking her time to comb out some stubborn knots. When she was done, she poured the pitcher of water that sat on her table into the awaiting basin in front of her.

Her daily routine had become crucial to her: it taught her how to make herself presentable as a waking monster in the guise of a normal woman, this, being all done without the aid of a mirror due to her lack of reflection. With enough time and practise, she knew how to fix and style her hair more efficiently without any additional help. She probably took as much time as any other woman- or less, considering she wasn't distracted by the fixation of making herself perfect in front of a mirror.

She was careful, at first, with cleaning the area where she'd been burnt, but feeling no pain where a scab was left in its place, allowed her to go about her usual pace.

After she had finished cleaning herself up, Elizabeth pulled on a yellow floral print dress. Patterns of blue, pink, and white flowers adorned the pale fabric while green leaves lay interspersed between, something that appeared both youthful- in which Elizabeth was deceptively not- and uplifting- something that was sorely lacking and even bizarre in their current world state. She swept her hair off her shoulders and divided it into three parts, tying the middle section into a ponytail, whilst twisting the sides downward along the length of her crown. When the ends met, she twisted them together, forming them into a low and modest bun before pinning it into place. She gave her hair a light pat down, feeling for any odd misplacements. Satisfied with the results, she stood with her basin, positioning it so she carried it below one arm and tucked against her hip, which allowed her other hand free to unlock and open the door. Elizabeth turned back to fetch the lantern and carried it out with her to light her way. Victor followed close behind.

As she walked towards the sitting room to enter the kitchen, she was unprepared to see the dark figure that lay motionless in the corner of her eye. She jumped slightly and turned to see that it was her sire sleeping in her armchair. She had forgotten about him, being too accustomed to her solitude with only the pitter patter of Victor following behind her, and Annabelle's random bouts of surprises. She let out a sigh as she was about to leave.

"Did I scare you?"

She paused and rolled her eyes.

Spike fluttered his lids open as he raised his head off the backrest, taking a little pride he had affected her without even trying. He grinned, "Already forget I was here, did you?" he sniggered.

"It is early, and it is dark inside," she said in her defense before strutting into the kitchen.

She noticed a chair had been shifted over in front of her cupboards, something that was clearly the work of her mischievous sire. But it was odd- he was tall enough to reach the higher shelves, she thought. Though, she wasn't even sure what he had been looking for. She shook her head and ignored that detail for now. He had bothered her before about getting him a top hat for a number of days without her truly knowing the reason why.

"Mm!" Spike raised his arms and stretched. "Nonetheless."

Elizabeth set the lantern and basin down on the counter, "Did you sleep well?" she called out, redirecting the subject away from her former embarrassment. Using a tea towel, she wiped at the bit of water that had splashed onto the side of her dress before stepping out into the pantry. She returned shortly with a bottle of milk in hand and glanced around her.

"Well," Spike crossed his arms and his smile disappeared into an expression that read more serious, "to be completely honest, not really. That furry sea slug of yours happened to invade my privacy," he raised his brows emphatically.

"Her  _name_  is Annabelle," she was quick to correct, "and she's just a kitten; she doesn't know any better," Elizabeth poured a saucer of milk and lowered it to the floor. "You're just something new that she hasn't seen before, and her curiosity has gotten the better of her," she glanced around the room with furrowed brows as she searched for her lost kitten, "she just wants to 'explore' you." She ducked her head low and peeked between the table and chair legs, "Annabelle, where are you?" she called out.

Lounging his head back against the backrest, Spike sighed, "Show me around town," he turned his head towards the kitchen. "I'm starting to feel a bit restless being all cooped up in here. It's a symptom of cabin fever, I hear. Could be dangerous."

"I have some chores to do…-"

"Oh, don't be such a bore, Liz! You owe me for all the trauma your cat's imposed on me. Take a hint and treat a man to a warm meal and a night out."

"...but I do have some errands to run in town," Elizabeth continued before being rudely interrupted; she was crouched over as she peered around the dark corners of the floor. She stood up with a sigh, "I suppose we could after I finish up here." Annabelle was clearly not lurking in the kitchen.

She walked out with her lantern in hand, "Have you seen my kitten?"

Spike was lighting up a cigarette, "Mm, no," smoke curled out of his mouth at his response. He snapped the lighter shut and turned to look up at her, "Haven't seen the darling for hours," he smiled.

Elizabeth's frown deepened, "Where could she have gone?" she stepped forward and peered around the dark floors.

Suddenly, Victor barked sharply; there was a sense of urgency in his tone that alerted her to turn and hurry back to the kitchen.

"What is it, Victor?" Elizabeth walked in briskly to see him standing rigid in front of the cupboards.

He glanced at his mistress briefly before turning back and barking again.

"Shh," Elizabeth hushed him as she came forward. Straining her ears, she heard a soft scratching and a barely audible mewl. Her eyes widened as she bolted forward and dragged the chair away. Crouching down, she set the lantern at her feet and flung the cupboard doors open. Annabelle sat shivering on her hunches as she cried up at her caretaker.

"Annabelle!" Elizabeth gasped, picking up the poor creature and cradling her against her chest. She kissed her head and held her close, "It's all right now, darling, I'm here." Running a soothing hand over her head and back, Elizabeth's brows furrowed in anger as it dawned on her what had happened. She stood up stiffly, her shoulders tensed and raised.

"Won't be another hour before the sun sets," Spike called out from the armchair. He flung the throw over the armrest and dusted off the ash that happened to fall onto his coat; the sound of Elizabeth's rapid heels came clacking towards him, "If the weather's in our favour, we could head out now and be in town within the hour before nightfall-" he glanced up to look at her, only to have his cigarette fizzle out as he was doused with water.

Elizabeth clenched the basin tightly in her hands as she heaved at him, her eyes glowing daggers in the dim room.

"You barmy  _bitch!_ " Spike spat. He grabbed the throw and roughly wiped it down his drenched face, "What the  _bloody_  hell is wrong with you!" he tossed the throw aside; the soggy cigarette somehow remained dangling from his lips.

"You locked Annabelle in the cupboards!" she shrieked.

Spike growled and pushed himself to his feet; he swiped his wet hair back, "Yeah, I did! The bloody  _thing_  deserved it, too! Getting its grubby paws all over my face!"

Elizabeth stood in disbelief at his admission, her anger simmering in her silence. "You… you… despicable  _monster!_  She's only a kitten!"

He snorted, "Be glad I didn't eat your pussy."

An animalistic growl erupted out of her as her face morphed. She swung the ceramic basin full force at the side of his head, but Spike blocked it with his forearm in time.

He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her towards him, "Have I hit a nerve,  _Liz?_ " She tried to jerk away, but he held her in place; a slow smirk crawled across his mouth before he let out his infamous giggle.

She growled again out of frustration. If she couldn't get away, she'd push forward. She barred her arm across his chest and barrelled against him, surprising him as she knocked him off his feet and back into the armchair. Rubbing her released wrist, she watched as the chair rocked back on its legs before falling forward with a loud 'thunk'. Her sire's sense of mirth had also vanished into a glowering and rigid brow. Spike finally spat his cigarette out from the corner of his mouth.

Elizabeth's grip tightened on the rim of the basin more fiercely, causing her knuckles to grow whiter than her already pale complexion; Spike clenched the edges of the armrests. The two stared at each other in a silent standoff, watching to see who would make the first move.

He shot off his seat and lunged at her; she aimed the basin at his side again, but like before, had it thwarted.

"You  _really_ think you're much of a match for me?" Spike growled.

Elizabeth glared with an intensity that could melt lead, "Annabelle is  _family_ ," she swung the ceramic to the other side and it pinged against the side of his arm. "If you dare and try to lay a  _finger_  on my family,"  _-ping-_  "I won't hesitate to hurt you!" she threatened, ramming the bottom of the basin hard against his chest.

Spike stumbled a step back before taking hold of the rim and pulling Elizabeth back with him towards the floor. Her eyes widened as her weight was thrown forward on top of him. In the blink of an eye, she was flipped over onto her back and pinned beneath her sire.

"Oh, how  _noble_  of you," he rolled his yellow eyes. He pressed closer as he loomed over her face; Elizabeth felt a rising panic in her and she flinched. "You're hardly a threat! What makes you think you could even hurt me? I've killed a  _Slayer!_ "

Elizabeth turned her head to the side and felt her facade slip away from her. Her arms were pressed down by the basin that buffered the short distance between them, something she was grateful for, despite the pain it inflicted.

Spike crouched lower, bowing his head close to her face. Elizabeth's eyes grew round as a breath hitched in her chest; she struggled to scramble away, but her feet did nothing else but scuffle against the floorboards. Spike lifted a new cigarette to his lips, having snaked a hand into his inner pocket, given his odd position. He lit the lighter next to her face, causing Elizabeth to flinch against the brightness of the flame, "Don't worry," he exhaled, shutting the case and tucking it away, "I'm not going to burn you."

Jumping in not a moment later, Victor growled and snapped at Spike's arms and legs.

"Sod off, you rabid infested fleabag!" Spike raised his arm protectively.

With him distracted and having some of his weight alleviated off of her, Elizabeth slammed the basin up against his chest, allowing her more freedom of her arms. She quickly followed this by striking the underside of his chin, throwing his head back. Now with enough wiggle room, Elizabeth managed to slip free as Victor continued to bark and snap at her sire.

She stood at a small distance away, holding the basin at bay as she watched him stumble to his legs whilst simultaneously trying to avoid getting caught in the clenches of Victor's bone-crunching jaws. With narrowed eyes, she followed his awkward movements- staggering feet and flailing arms. It wasn't until he lowered his arms that she realised his cigarette was missing.

Spike had reverted back to his human guise. With his mouth open, he heaved, a wheezing sound that resembled one who had a respiratory infection. He looked to her and caught her eye. Pointing to his throat, he wheezed again whilst scarcely dodging Victor's snapping teeth. He slapped at the back of his neck.

Elizabeth's tension lessened as she crossed her arms and watched him struggle a bit. She sighed, "Victor,  _nein!_   _Platz!_ " she ordered. Victor paused to look at his mistress, his eyes almost questionable and puzzled that she wanted him to stop, but he did as she commanded. He trotted over to her side. " _Bleib_ ," she said before walking forward.

" _Stuck_ ," Spike managed to rasp, pointing to his throat. He drew in a wheezing breath before smacking the back of his neck.

Elizabeth cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms, "Hmm, at least you don't need to breathe."

Spike glared at her.

"Actually," she laughed, "this is quite nice. I haven't had any peace and quiet since you've arrived."

Spike narrowed his eyes.

Elizabeth grinned, her lips curling over her teeth with irresistible glee. "Have I hit a nerve, Will?" she placed her hands on her hips.

" _It's… Spike!_ " he hissed.

Elizabeth sighed. Placing the basin aside, she moved next to her sire, "If cigarettes won't kill you, I suppose this would be the next worst thing." She grabbed hold of his arm and directed him to the side of the armchair, "Now, bend over."

Raising a high arched brow, Spike turned to look at her.

"Place your hands on the armrest and bend over," she repeated in all seriousness.

Spike turned around and did as he was instructed, though not without rolling his eyes and exhaling sharply through his nose.

Elizabeth pressed a flat palm on his back to situate him lower. Pulling her hand back as she readied herself, she paused as she let it hover above him, "Swear to never to lay another hand on Annabelle or Victor."

Spike turned around and shot another glare at her.

"If you want my help, swear."

Spike held his look of contempt as long as he could before letting out another sigh. He nodded curtly.

"Good," Elizabeth nodded, "now, turn around." Being as they were, Elizabeth held her flattened palm over his back and struck it hard between his shoulder blades. Spike heaved forward a bit, catching himself with his outstretched arms. Elizabeth whacked hard again, and this time, the cigarette sailed out of his mouth and onto the dark floor. Victor peered over at it.

Spike straightened up, "That's better," he sighed, his voice a little hoarse.

Elizabeth picked up the basin and began to head towards the kitchen, "If you'd still like to head to the city-" she stopped to turn around when she heard the sound of his lighter.

Spike dragged on his newly lit cigarette, only to cough out the smoke.

"Do you think it wise to smoke so soon?" she asked with a raise of her brows.

"Third time's a charm, love," he coughed before audibly clearing his throat.

She sighed silently with a shake of her head.

"Mind getting me out of these clothes?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "Pardon me?"

"I'm like a soggy biscuit, and you haven't even bothered to offer a towel."

"Right," she sighed. She left the room and returned with a clean shirt and towel. "Here," she offered them to him.

Spike dumped them over the backrest of the armchair before shirking off his coat, "That from the Nazi from last night?"

"No, his was ruined; there was too much blood. This is from one of the men from before," she explained with nonchalance.

"'Course," Spike replied as he peeled the wet shirt from his skin.

Elizabeth had seen her sire far more exposed than this, but she wasn't the same little, blushing girl when they had first started off on their misadventure years ago. She'd seen more things now, been numbed down, but she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at his carefree nature. She'd never feel completely comfortable with another man. "Let me take your shirt. I can dry it by the stove," she took a few steps towards him before she caught it midair as he tossed it towards her.

"Thanks, love," Spike replied as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

Elizabeth let out another silent sigh. Armed with the basin and his wet shirt, she finally returned to the kitchen. She put a kettle on the stove with the shirt draped on the back of a chair nearby. Continuing where she had left off with her chores before her scuffle, she began to wash the bloodied dress she had left soaking from overnight.

"You were saying?" Spike called out.

"What was that?" Elizabeth replied.

"We're still heading into town, yeah?"

"Yes, if you'd like. After I'm done."

"I'd love to," Spike smiled, trotting in with his shirt only half buttoned as he smoothed back his hair. He slid onto the chair at the table and pulled the cigarette away from his mouth.

Elizabeth stopped what she was doing and promptly brought a saucer over to him.

" _Danke_ ," he said, flicking the ashes over it.

"You're welcome," she replied. She returned to her station and continued scrubbing with vigour.

Victor sauntered in and stopped a short breadth away from where Elizabeth stood, cocking his head slightly as he watched her.

Spike observed them quietly and placed his elbow on the table as he took a drag. "Your dog wants to be let out," he exhaled.

There were times when her sire had purposefully tried to grate on her nerves and other times when all he had to do was open his mouth to get her fuming, but to have him tell her about her own dog fringed on a level of annoyance that bordered on condescension and belittlement. She glanced to him with a hardened expression, "Are you saying I don't know what Victor needs?"

Victor barked; she glanced down at him in surprise.

"No, I'm saying, if you don't let the mutt out, you'll be cleaning his piss off the floor."

He was right.

Elizabeth wiped her hands on a dry towel before turning out of the room, "Victor,  _komm._ "

She stood behind the front door as she waited for him to come back in. Her sire's level of perceptibility for her dog was surprising, to say the least. The kettle's whistle alerted her that the water was boiling. "Do you mind getting that?" she called out. It continued to whistle. As soon as Victor trotted back in, Elizabeth locked the door behind him and ran into the kitchen.

She removed the kettle with a towel and set it onto a trivet. "Why didn't you do anything?" she turned to him where he remained seated at the table.

"I've never cooked a day in my life, what did you expect me to do?" the cigarette wagged between his lips.

"It's boiling water!"

"What part of 'never cooked a day in my life' did you not understand?"

Elizabeth sighed and turned back around. She began to pour the water into the teapot, "If I happen to need help with making tea, and I'm not in the room when the kettle's ready, just take it off the stove and put it aside. I'll do the rest."

Spike nodded and stubbed out the cigarette butt, "Seems easy enough."

Elizabeth brought her tea tray over to the table, an image that mirrored the events of the previous night. Spike helped himself to some sugar and milk and a serving of leftover cake.

Turning back to the stove, Elizabeth checked her sire's shirt, feeling that it was only marginally damp. She laid her cleaned dress on the counter next to the stove and returned to the table to fix herself a cup.

"I think this tastes better today," Spike chewed on the coffee cake. "I'd imagine a drizzle of blood would make it delectable. Got some of that Nazi's on hand?"

"I've stored it in the pantry," she sipped at her tea as she watched her sire fidget in his chair. She quirked a brow, "Would you like me to get some?" she offered; he fidgeted again but showed no indication on his face.

"Hmm, haven't had bottled blood before…," he mused, looking up with squinted eyes as he pondered the thought of it. This time, he lowered himself; it was clear he had used his arm for something as he resurfaced.

"What in heavens are you doing?" Elizabeth finally had to ask.

Spike eyed her warily, "If you have to know-"

Elizabeth leaned forward to see Annabelle scrambling forward and attacking her sire's leg. Using his boot, he nudged her a foot away, only to have her bounding forward towards him again.

"Annabelle!" she gasped. She raised her eyes to Spike and glared, "Don't you dare-"

"I"m not," he interjected. "I made a promise, didn't I?" he rolled his eyes. "Can't help it if I'm such a pussy magnet."

Elizabeth lowered herself and scooped her kitten up into her arms before rising, "What are you getting yourself into?" she said quietly, perplexed that her cat was still so fearless despite what he had done to her.

"And yes, please. I'd like some. Blood," Spike made sure to point out.

Elizabeth sighed. She was the one who had offered.

Taking Annabelle with her, Elizabeth retrieved a bottle and placed it on the table. She set her kitten on the floor, only to see her dash back towards her sire. She sighed, knowing there was little that she could do.

She finished her tea before picking up her basin of dirty water and hefted it against her hip, "I need to tend to the garden. That should be the last thing I do before we leave."

Spike was careful to pour some blood out over his cake but ended up bathing it in red. He shrugged and moved his arm over, continuing his stream into his teacup, "Sounds good," he replied, not bothering to look up.

Elizabeth bent over and cupped her hand underneath Victor's chin, "Keep an eye on your sister, Victor. Attack the funny man if you need to."

"Hey! I heard that!" Spike sat up in his seat as he watched Elizabeth walk out.

┼†‡

The sky was overcast, enough to allow Elizabeth light to work in her garden, but not enough to burn her. She had exchanged her short heels for Wellington boots; a kerchief lay wrapped over her hair and an apron was tied around her waist. She pulled at the weeds that sprouted between the rows of her flourishing garden, finding the tedious repetition relaxing. Her thoughts drifted to ingredients she'd need for dinner. Possibly a soup or stew, she thought, plucking what she needed from the earth. She rinsed the dirt off the vegetables underneath the groundwater pump that was set some distance away from her cottage. Filling her pail with some fresh water, she carried it and her basin of vegetables back with her. She stopped to throw some unneeded vegetation into her rabbit pen and filled the trough with water before reaching the cottage.

Stamping her boots clean of dirt, she pushed the door open and set her pail and basin inside before shutting the door behind her. She removed her boots and put her shoes back on, then hung her apron up on a hook by the door.

"Are we ready?" she called out, coming into the kitchen with her arms full. Her sire was missing. As well as Victor and Annabelle. Elizabeth set her vegetables down with haste and nearly spilt the contents of her pail. "William!" she cried, dashing out into the sitting room to see it empty. "Victor, Annabelle!" she opened the door and peered outside.

They were gone.

She slammed the door shut and turned to face her quiet and dark surroundings. Her mind raced.

She perked her head up when she heard her sire cackle from the other room. "William!" she ran forward and was stopped abruptly when he emerged in his coat. She blinked her round eyes as she saw both of her missing family members following behind him. Her gaze rose back to her sire in confusion.

" _Elizabeth_ ," Spike grinned.

"Victor,  _komm!_ " Elizabeth snapped her fingers with urgency, her tone sharp. She hunched down when Victor padded softly over and hugged him protectively, "Where did you go?" her panic breaking out of her as she buried her face into his fur. Annabelle trotted towards her and mewled.

"I found what you're hiding," Spike continued to badger her.

Elizabeth raised her head as she peered at him, feeling a pit settle into her stomach.

"You've got quite a collection tucked away, haven't you?" he pulled a book from behind his back and raised it. "Keeping all those books hidden behind in the pantry," he sniggered. He canted his head curiously at her, "Eh, what? Are you crying?"

Elizabeth wiped at her face, feeling a tear had slipped past and rolled down her cheek.

"Some sort of shameful hobby of yours that you'd keep it from wandering eyes? Nothing to cry over. We've all got our demons," he tossed the book over onto the armchair.

"No, that's not-" Elizabeth furrowed her brows as she looked to her sire. She didn't want to ask. She picked Annabelle up as she pawed at her, "Is that where you two have been?" she whispered.

" _Victor_ , was giving me hungry eyes. Thought the only way to satiate his need to eat me was if he had a leg of German. He seems to have gotten over his desire to hurt me.  _Annabelle_  just decided to follow us. Can't take that away from us now; we've bonded," he shrugged.

Elizabeth kissed them both and held them close to her for a moment longer. What a strange creature her sire was, she thought. He'd always been a mystery to her before, but he still continued to puzzle her.

"So…," Spike rocked on his feet.

"Yes," Elizabeth discreetly wiped at the corner of her eyes before standing, "we can go now."

Spike practically jumped with anticipation, "My car or yours?" he grinned, giddy with excitement that he was going to find some new and unknown parts to explore again. It was strange that this time, she was the one taking him under her wing and showing him the ropes- that was something he was used to doing. He supposed the tables would turn eventually, one day.

"We'll take my car," she walked into her room for her coat and hat. She slipped something into the pocket. "A civilian car would be less suspicious," she explained, pulling her arms into the sleeves and shifting the coat up over her shoulders. She straightened her collar and buttoned up her cobalt blue coat as she walked out into the sitting room. Removing the kerchief from her hair, she affixed her brown felt hat on her head, perching it at a slight angle. The style was asymmetrical, where one side of the wide brim sloped lower. A ribbon in a lighter shade encircled the top, ending with a neat bow.

"Now you're starting to look more like yourself," Spike glanced over the familiar colouring.

Elizabeth crouched down and pet Victor on the head, "Take care of your sister and guard the house, Victor. I won't be gone long," she said. Rising to her feet, she slipped on a pair of leather driving gloves and began to walk forward, "We'll leave from the back."

Spike followed her from behind.

┼†‡

They passed her garden and groundwater pump when they came upon a dilapidated and abandoned barn. The door remained permanently open as it hung half off its hinges. Spike glanced around his surroundings as Elizabeth continued forward.

"Hop in," the car door creaked as she pulled it open and climbed in; it creaked again as she slammed it shut. Her car was an early Volkswagen model made in the mid '30s. It was small but sturdy and durable, and quicker than what one would suspect with its small size. It drove her where she needed to be, and for her, that was sufficient enough.

Spike slid into the passenger seat and was quick to fiddle with the radio dials as she started the car.

Elizabeth pulled out and drove through the grass field till she reached the dirt road, keeping her speed slower than what her sire would have liked. "If I run into any friends, I want you to let me speak," she advised.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Not as though I could say much anyway," he replied.

┼†‡

As soon as they reached paved roads, they picked up speed. It wasn't long before they arrived in town.

Spike peered out with squinted eyes, "Hard to see without lit street lamps."

Elizabeth turned down a quiet road and parked into an alleyway. "I need to meet with someone," she turned to look at her sire. "Most shops start to close at this hour, but you may comb the streets for something to your liking. We'll rendez-vous back here."

"Dumping me off here in this scary, big world to fend for myself? I thought you were going to show me the grand tour."

Elizabeth sighed, "I have errands to run, Will-"

Spike raised his hand, "Say no more, I understand. You'd probably hold me back, anyway." He popped open the door and climbed out, leaving Elizabeth to roll her eyes.

When she was sure he was a good distance away, she reached into her glovebox and pulled out two pistols. She wrapped one in her kerchief and pocketed it on her right, then slipped the second one into the other side of her coat to balance out the weight.

She stepped out and walked a few minutes before she reached the back facade of a meat shop, coming upon the scene of the butcher dumping the remnants of his melting ice. Water and slush cascaded forward just in front of where she stood, "Is he in?" she spoke in German.

The man looked up at her and grunted, "Mmph." He picked up his other tray and turned out more ice.

With her hands dug deep in her pockets, Elizabeth stared up at the shop and walked forward.

The smell of blood and death hit her nostrils as soon as she entered, an odour that she both loved and hated. She turned to her right to a small and narrow staircase, climbing it till she reached a door with a frosted window. She knocked twice with her knuckle, paused, and knocked once more.

A short pause followed after. "Come in," a man called out in German.

Elizabeth pushed open the door and entered a cramped and dingy room. There were boxes and papers laying around a desk; a man dressed in a tie and suspenders rose from the chair situated behind it.

"Would you like a seat?" he offered, gesturing to the idle chair that sat across from his bureau. Stacks of newspapers were already slouching over the side of the seat.

"No, thank you," she replied, shutting the door behind her. She slipped her hand back into her pocket as she stepped forward, "I won't be here long."

"Business as usual," he nodded as he ran a hand over his dark hair, a vain effort to smooth out the unruly curls that had sprung up from his pomade.

"Yes."

He walked towards her, "What have you got for me tonight?"

Elizabeth pulled out her wrapped parcel and revealed the pistol.

The man raised his brows and pushed back his circular glasses, "Another one." He held his hands out as Elizabeth placed it into his grasp. Walking back to his desk, he adjusted the lamp as he examined the object more carefully, turning it over to find the Nazi stamp below the rear of the slide, "How did you get-"

"We agreed there would be no questions asked," Elizabeth said curtly.

The man ran a thumb and index finger over his thick and neat moustache, "Yes, we did." He looked to her and straightened up, "As long as you're able to supply more for me. I don't see you enough."

"How much?" Elizabeth asked, getting straight to the point.

He sat on the edge of his desk and released the magazine. Peering down into it, he assumed by its appearance and heft that it was full. He pulled the slide back and released the cartridge from the chamber as it fell onto the stack of papers on his desk, "Twenty."

"Twenty'? Your price has fallen each time I've come. As I recall, the last one was double the amount," Elizabeth was tart.

He glanced up at her, "A loaf of bread that had cost at an equivalence of 20  _pfennig_  before the war is now worth 500  _Reichsmark_ on the black market. A gun wouldn't be able to feed you, even if it's loaded."

This didn't apply to her, but she knew he was right. "Thirty-five," she bargained.

"One gun is hardly worth that."

She released the magazine safety with a flick of her thumb and pulled out the magazine from her pocket, "Thirty-five for the pistol and an additional magazine," she held it out on her palm.

"Thirty. That's only half a gun."

"You only need one working pistol to fire rounds. I've provided twice the amount. Thirty-five."

The man sighed and rubbed his thumb and index finger over his moustache again, "All right." He walked forward and held his hand out to retrieve it, "How does a young and beautiful woman get herself involved in such a dark world like this?"

"It wasn't a choice," she replied starkly.

Walking behind his desk, he set the items down. He crouched low as he began to unlock a safe that was hidden from view. He counted out the banks notes and returned to her as he recounted them into her hand. "That makes thirty-five."

"Good," she rolled them up and slipped them beneath the collar of her dress into her brassiere.

There was a sudden scratching coming from the window. Both Elizabeth and the man turned instinctively, but the man reached for the gun and snapped the magazine back into the hand grip.

"Wait!" Elizabeth cried, raising her arms.

He racked the slide in one fluid motion as he stalked towards the window and threw it open; he aimed the barrel directly in the middle of Spike's forehead. There was a calmness to his fierce eyes like a quiet storm; his hand was steady.

"Bloody hell!" Spike raised his brows in modest surprise.

"Don't shoot!" Elizabeth scrambled forward and blocked him.

"Look at how he's dressed! He's part of the SS!"

"He's a friend. Please,  _Hamsterer_ , he isn't who he appears to be!" she pleaded.

"You brought him here,  _Spatz? You_  led him here?" Hamsterer grew more agitated.

"He's British, like me. Speak to him in German, he won't be able to respond." Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at her sire, "Don't do anything hasty. He won't harm you," she assured him.

Hamsterer wiped a hand over his face and watched the man from over her shoulder; he kept the pistol raised, "Is this true? You're British? Not a part of the SS or a spy?  _Speak up!_ "

Spike furrowed his brows in confusion, receding his chin back a bit as he took offense to the way the man was yelling at him. "Is he quite all right?" he glanced over at his progeny. "Have I popped in at a bad time?" He looked to the man as he raised his voice and spoke slowly, "I… DON'T… SPEAK… NAZI."

Hamsterer merely blinked.

Spike sighed out of exasperation as he hung his head briefly, "Oh, bloody hell. Liz," he glanced to her, "tell the bloke I took this off the stiff I killed."

"Does that satisfy you?" Elizabeth ignored her sire's words and held her gaze with Hamsterer.

He blinked and slowly lowered his arm. Retreating into the room, he poured himself a drink and threw his head back, downing the burning liquid in one swallow.

Elizabeth sighed and turned around to help her sire inside. "Were you following me?" she glared.

"Well," he pushed himself up, seating himself on the sill before swivelling around on his bottom and hopping off into the room, "it got a bit boring. Curfew really reigns in my chances of getting a quick bite," he shrugged. Turning to her, he grinned, "Though, this seems to have been more interesting. Dealing with a dodgy man in a dodgy little room," he waggled his brows suggestively.

"I did it to get some money," she said in her defense.

"I know. I saw you tuck it away," he flicked his gaze lower before looking back up at her with a toothy grin.

Elizabeth blushed.

"Why is he dressed like that?" the dealer watched Spike carefully.

"Like us, it was an attempt to blend in without being noticed," Elizabeth faced him as she answered for her oblivious sire.

"I think he might have overdone it," he glanced over to her.

Elizabeth nodded in silent agreement.

"How did he manage to climb up the side of the building? We're on the second floor and there is no ladder," he set his glass down whilst maintaining his grip on the gun in his other hand.

"He's… a gymnast. He was part of a travelling circus," Elizabeth lied. She couldn't explain to him that it was because of her sire's vampire abilities- she didn't even know the extent of them. That was the first time she'd learnt he could do that.

He glanced to Spike warily, "You have your money now," he flicked his gaze back to Elizabeth.

"Yes. Till next time," she nodded. Turning on her spot, she walked to the door and pulled it open. "Come on, William," she muttered between her teeth.

"Oh, we're leaving already?" Spike followed her out as she shuffled down the narrow staircase.

Elizabeth strode at a generous arm's length away from him, swiftly and silently. When they were in the safety of the dark alley, she spun around and faced him, "You  _bloody_  idiot!" she huffed.

Spike halted in his tracks and raised his brows out of genuine surprise.

"You could have  _ruined_ it!" she took a step towards him, causing him to lean back slightly. "Hamsterer is a man of war! He could have shot you on the spot if I hadn't stepped in!" she hissed.

"Oh," Spike's brows rose. He nodded, seeming to understand her sudden and erratic behaviour, "not to worry, love," he placed a hand on her shoulder; she turned and glanced at it before quirking a brow at him. "The bullet wouldn't have done a thing. It might sting a bit and would require a bit of patching up, but I'd have healed in time."

Elizabeth's brows shot up incredulously.

"Come along now, we've got other things to do. The night's still young," he began to walk ahead of her, leaving her to stare at his back. "No use dawdling over things that might or might not have happened."

Elizabeth covered her face with her gloved hands out of frustration, drawing them down slowly as she mumbled, "I could put a bullet in his head myself!"

She found him already seated in her car waiting. She sighed and climbed in.

"Where to next?" he quipped.

The car accelerated forward, "The bookshop."

┼†‡

"That's not a very efficient way to spend your time," Spike sighed.

Elizabeth ignored him as she pulled her car in front of the shop.

"Doesn't appear to be open, either," he commented.

She turned to him, "If you won't bother keeping these comments to yourself, you may gladly find something that's more suited to your liking. In fact," she opened the door and climbed out, "there's a lovely canteen just up the street. It's stocked full of German soldiers," she slammed the door shut.

Spike climbed out and shut the door behind him, "Huh. Actually, that sounds like a good plan," he nodded. "Thanks for the suggestion," he stepped off without another word in the direction she had pointed.

Elizabeth let out a low sigh. She had hoped he wouldn't follow her in.

Standing in front of the shop door, she peered into the window to see a middle aged man standing behind a counter. She smiled and pushed through.

The bell above the door alerted him of someone walking in, causing him to glance up from his bookkeeping, "I'm sorry, the shop has just closed."

Elizabeth walked forward towards him with a bright smile.

"Ah, Miss Elizabeth," he returned the smile, immediately recognising her, "The night is long and we are young," he said as he peered at her through the thick rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Have I arrived too late?" she asked.

"You've arrived just on time," he shuffled some papers aside on his counter as he waited for her to come closer. He lowered his voice in case there were other idle patrons in the shop, "We have… more visitors," he said, keeping himself preoccupied with the paperwork on his desk.

"I love meeting new friends," her smile was pleasant.

"They're anxious to meet you, as well."

She lowered her eyes, "Do you have anything new?"

"Things are hard to come by at these times," he commented with a soft sigh, "though, there is something rare you might want to see. Come, follow me," he gestured as he began to walk to the back of the room. Elizabeth followed closely behind.

Once there, they were met with a door; he pushed it open and walked through. When she had slipped past, he spoke quietly as he shut it behind her, "They're a small family- a mother, father, and one young daughter." Elizabeth helped him as they moved aside some boxes to get to a partially blocked off storage room. Pulling out a ring of keys, he unlocked the door and opened it.

The room inside was dark and musty. With a flick of a switch, a single incandescent bulb hanging in the centre of the room revealed the young family he had just disclosed to her. They peered up at them with squinted eyes, their sight slowly adjusting to the sudden light.

"Horst, is she… 'The Sparrow'?" the man asked hesitantly.

The shopkeeper nodded, "She is," he glanced to Elizabeth.

The woman sighed in relief as she held her daughter tightly within her lap, a girl who looked starved and no older than ten, "Thank you, thank you…!" she breathed.

Horst nodded to Elizabeth as he turned his attention to the refugees he was harbouring, "This is Jürgen Flaschenträger, his wife Inge, and their daughter, Petra." They looked to her with large, round eyes, waiting to see what was to happen next.

"It is so nice to meet you all," Elizabeth said softly, her smile gentle to match her tone.

"Would this be a suitable night for travelling?" Horst asked as he looked to her.

"It should be simple enough," she nodded, leaving out the idea of what her sire might think or say. She turned to the family with another reassuring smile, "We will have you all rested tonight. You'll be travelling with another friend tomorrow evening on your journey to America. He is a good man; I trust him with my life."

The husband and wife looked to each other with hope and clasped each other's hands tightly. "There is an angel among us after all," the man said, letting a relieved smile show clearly on his face. The wife smiled tearfully at him and kissed their daughter's forehead.

Elizabeth paused briefly as she composed herself, "However, I must warn you all, I am currently travelling with a friend."

They all turned to look at her.

"Please, don't be alarmed by his appearance. He is dressed in an SS coat, but I swear to you, he is not a German soldier."

Horst's brows rose, "Who is this man?" he asked suspiciously.

"He is… an ally. A friend." These were words she believed herself.

"I pray you know what you're doing, Sparrow," he said to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth grew silent. In truth, she didn't. "Come, the shop is empty," she recovered from her momentary lapse. "We must hurry," she gestured with her hand as the family slowly stood and shuffled out.

Horst walked out into the main room first, ensuring that no one else had accidentally wandered in. He opened the door and allowed Elizabeth and the family through.

"Horst," Elizabeth turned to him and pulled out some folded papers, "this is a file on another family that may need help."

Horst took them from her and held them open, his eyes streaming across the page quickly before glancing up at her, "How did you get this?"

"It was happenstance. Do you think you can do anything?"

He folded the papers, "I'll find a way," he nodded.

Elizabeth smiled at him before moving towards the door.

"Wait here," she stepped out to check both ends of the street. There was a soldier patrolling a block over, but it was far enough that he wouldn't see them. She hurried to the passenger side and opened the door, pushing the seat forward to allow them room to pass.

Rushing back to the shop, she opened the door and gestured for them to hurry, "It is safe to come out, now."

The mother and daughter scurried out first as Elizabeth directed them into the car. She paused when she noticed a familiar figure coming towards them. She let out a soft breath. With a shake of her head, she guided the father into the car and pushed the seat back in place. She wouldn't allow any distractions from her task at hand. Elizabeth shut the door and straightened up as her sire approached.

"Took your time in there, did you?" Spike strolled forward as he pulled a cigarette from his mouth and exhaled.

Elizabeth let out a breath, "Have yourself a nice meal?"

Spike scratched his cheek with his thumb, "Somewhat. He seemed a bit 'mealy'." He shrugged and exhaled, "So, are we ready?"

"Before we go," Elizabeth stopped him from walking forward, "I have some friends who will be visiting till tomorrow night. They've had a very tiresome day, so please, leave them be."

Spike cocked a brow, "'Friends'? I wasn't aware you had any besides the mutt and pussy already crowding your cottage." He took a drag on his cigarette when he caught the eye of the shopkeeper peering out from the bookshop. He shuffled back as soon as Spike had spotted him. "Wait a minute," Spike narrowed his eyes and glanced to Elizabeth, "where are they?"

"They're in the car," Elizabeth replied. Her eyes widened as he strutted past her, "Wait, Will!"

Spike cranked the door open and arched his arm over the top of the car, bending forward as he peered at the family that stared back at him with round eyes. His gaze flickered over the state of their dress, their gaunt and weary faces. His eyes hovered back to the mother when she nervously adjusted her shawl, partially revealing the star of David sewn onto her cardigan. Spike spun on his spot and scowled at Elizabeth, "Tell me you're not  _bloody_  doin' it!"

Elizabeth sighed and walked around to the driver's side as Spike's gaze followed her. She opened the door and climbed in.

Spike lowered his head again and peered at her through the open door, "You're taking in bloody  _Jews?_ "

Elizabeth finally turned to him sternly as she gripped the steering wheel, "Lower your voice! They've already been through enough!"

The mother held her daughter close to her chest, just as her husband placed a protective arm across them.

Spike glanced to them briefly before glaring at his progeny.

"Are you coming in or not?" Elizabeth turned her keys as the ignition came to life.

"Oh, God," Spike lowered his head as he brought his palm to his face, "just when I thought you had turned a new leaf, you do…  _this_ ," he gestured to the small family in the back of the car.

They looked to him anxiously; the girl's eyes were especially wide.

"W-what is the matter?" the mother asked nervously, pulling her daughter closer still.

"Nothing is wrong," Elizabeth said calmly over her shoulder. "He is just suffering from some bad indigestion and is embarrassed at passing wind in front of unexpected strangers."

The tension was immediately lifted. The daughter began to giggle.

Spike let out an exasperated sigh and begrudgingly slid in next to Elizabeth, "Thought you were going to take me out to town for a pint and some supper, and then you unload this on me," he pointed at her accusingly with his cigarette sidled between his fingers. He slammed the door shut as he narrowed his eyes at her, "I won't believe a word you say the next time,  _Liz._ Never again," he fumed, crossing his arms in front of his chest like a child throwing a tantrum.

Elizabeth let out a low breath and drove forward.

Things remained quiet till the husband spoke, "Tell him there is no shame in it. He looks rather uncomfortable… holding it in."

Elizabeth smiled.

Spike turned to look at him, smiling with sarcasm dripping thick in his words, " _Guten Abend, mein Freund! Wie geht's?_ "

The man looked to him with surprise at the casualness of his question and blinked. "We… are in the middle of war and are hoping to escape with our lives," he replied in German, a little befuddled. "Are you feeling better?"

" _Ja_ ," Spike replied casually. "Cigarette?" Spike offered his box to him, not understanding a word he had uttered. He glanced to Elizabeth, "See, I'm making  _nice._ "

Elizabeth continued to smile.

The Jewish man shook his head and declined, "No, thank you, I do not smoke."

Spike gave a small shrug and turned back around in his seat, "Good, more for me, then. Can't say that I didn't try."

The family remained quiet throughout the duration of the car ride as the strange Nazi dressed man changed the radio station. Their silence was filled with American jazz music.

┼†‡

Once they had been relocated to Elizabeth's cottage, they filed out and looked to it in awe.

"Is this going to be our new home, Mama?" the young girl finally spoke, peering up at the sunflowers that towered over them.

"No,  _Sonnenblume,_  we are just staying for tonight," she knelt down and smiled at her as she patted her shoulder. "We're going to travel somewhere very far tomorrow, so we must rest up well."

"You will be leaving with Bear," the mother looked up as Elizabeth spoke, "he will take you to the train station. It will be a long journey but a safe one once you leave Germany."

The mother and father glanced to Elizabeth and nodded gravely.

"Come, your little girl looks starved. I'll have something hot prepared for you all to eat," she led them towards her home and stopped at her door. Carefully pushing it open, she was warmly greeted by two pairs of glowing eyes. Elizabeth crouched low and scratched Victor's face between her hands, "Victor, have you kept the house orderly while I was gone?" He panted in excitement and barked, his tail wagging furiously. Annabelle stumbled forward and trilled at her in greeting, "Hello, Annabelle," Elizabeth lifted her up into her arms and kissed her head.

"Look, Mama, a doggy!" Petra pointed.

Her mother held her protectively close.

"It's all right, he won't harm you," Elizabeth stepped in and pushed the door back farther, allowing them room to pass through. "Be nice, Victor, they're friends," she patted him on the head. She heard her sire snort from outside. Lighting a couple of lanterns, she waited for them to enter, "Wait here while I get the cellar ready," she set the kitten down.

Taking a lantern with her, she walked into her bedroom and peeled out of her outerwear, laying her hat on her vanity and her coat draped over the back of her chair. She pulled the roll of banknotes out from of her dress and placed it in her nightstand drawer. Remaining at her bedside, she hunched over and pushed her bed entirely aside, revealing a trap door beneath it. Once the latch was pulled back, Elizabeth climbed down the ladder with her light in hand.

The cellar was a small room, dark, and smelling of dirt; there were no windows, the walls had soil and roots pushing through them, and the floor was lacking, with only a carpet of earth in its place. Though it wasn't suited for permanent living, Elizabeth had made an effort to at least make it comfortable for her guests. A couple of cots lay across from each other and a makeshift table made from an empty box crate sat between them. Elizabeth lit the lantern that sat there and glanced around her, ensuring there were enough pillows and blankets.

She resurfaced and entered the sitting room, finding the little girl had taken a liking to her kitten as she played with her, "It is ready. This way."

They stood and followed her down to the cellar.

Just as Elizabeth was about to turn away, the mother stood and clasped her hand in hers, "Thank you, for all that you have done. I don't know how I could ever repay you," her eyes were glassy.

Elizabeth smiled and squeezed her hand gently, "You don't need to thank me. Do you need anything else? More blankets, perhaps?"

"You have provided us with enough," the husband walked forward next to his wife and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Clasping the top of his hand with hers, his wife turned to glance up at him.

Elizabeth nodded, "I'll be back shortly with some food." She climbed back up and headed towards the kitchen.

┼†‡

Spike had remained upstairs during that time, not bothering to make any efforts to hide his disapproval and grumpiness when they had relocated. He lounged back in the chair he had first assumed when he had visited Elizabeth. His eyes followed her as she entered.

Elizabeth flitted across the small space as she pulled some bowls out onto the counter and set a large pot onto the stovetop. She began to chop the vegetables she had picked earlier that day in a quick and steady rhythm, only to suddenly stop- she sensed the daggers that her sire bore into her back. "There's little you can do with a glare," she said, not bothering to turn around. She poured some oil into the pot and added the chunks of onion, carrot, and celeriac to it- they sizzled on contact.

Spike scoffed, "Kinda thought you might have ordered a meal out, but to find out you're doing…  _good,_ " he frowned. Rubbing at his face, he sighed, "I suppose some things don't change after all," he raised his eyes to the ceiling and watched the cigarette smoke waft up above him.

Elizabeth stirred the vegetables with a wooden spoon, "Everyone needs a hobby."

"Thought yours was baking," Spike commented, directing his narrowed eyes at her.

Elizabeth left the kitchen to fetch a Mason jar filled with vegetable stock and added that in with chunked potatoes. She gave it a good stir before covering it with the lid, "I promise that when they leave, I'll show you around," she said with a sigh.

Spike stubbed out the butt in the saucer, "Fine, you said it," he held her words against her.

"I'll let you drive if you promise to be careful," Elizabeth turned around and placed a hand on her hip.

"And when exactly will that be?" he asked. Spike grinned at her, "I'm not sure what sort of impression you have of me; I'm a bloody amazing driver. The headlights were out, is all," he sniffed.

"I'm sure you are," Elizabeth kept her smile demure, her sarcasm undetectable.

She fixed another pot of tea for them as she waited for the soup to finish. When it was done, she added some fresh herbs, cream, and salt and pepper. Fixing a tray with three steaming bowls of soup, she carried it carefully in her hands as she walked out.

Spike watched as she left, "And to think, I was going to get my fill tonight," he grumbled.

He got up and sauntered into the sitting room and plopped himself down onto the armchair, finding that it had dried. Annabelle soon came out of hiding from somewhere and managed to pounce onto his lap. "At least you've got no hidden agendas, do you?" he lifted her up by the scruff of her neck; she mewled at his face. He set her down on the armrest, only to have her crawl into his lap and make a ball out of herself. She began to purr as she napped. Spike sighed and didn't move, too tired having learnt these strange habits of his estranged progeny.

Elizabeth emerged from her room with her pitcher in hand. She glanced over briefly to see Annabelle asleep in his lap.

"How long has this been going on?" Spike glanced up at her.

She walked into the kitchen and collected the mess of scraps into a basin, "This would make it the fifth family, if I recall correctly," she strode out to the backdoor and dropped them into her rabbit pen, then tossed the remnants of the blood her sire had left on the table into the bushes.

"Fifth- oh, bloody hell," Spike reclined back, rolling his eyes as he shook his head in disapproval.

Elizabeth returned to the kitchen and filled her basin with water, "That's unfortunate you won't be here to see the sixth family I take in," she teased as she scrubbed at her dishes; she set them on a towel to dry. Hefting the basin of dirty water, she stepped out once more, "I wish you could stay a bit longer-" she caught herself as those words revealed another truth about her. Though her sire was bullheaded and surly at times, he was her friend. She was reluctant to admit it, but she was happy to see him again. She tossed the water out the backdoor and quickly retreated back towards the kitchen.

Spike sat up and looked at her as she passed, unable to suppress his Cheshire grin, "Aw, you say that like you're already missing me."

Elizabeth tipped the pail water out into her pitcher. Once filled, she carried it and her basin with her as she walked out; her dried dress was draped across her arm. She paused as she entered the sitting room.

"Don't be glum; I'm always around. Somewhere. But I'm always there," Spike said with an affirming nod.

Elizabeth felt a sudden warmth creep across her cheeks. "Good night, Will," she said, quick to turn around so that he wouldn't see her flush.

┼†‡

Entering her bedroom, Elizabeth shut the door after Victor passed through and locked it. She hung her cleaned dress in her wardrobe before sliding out of her own and began to wash herself with the cool water she had just poured.

Her sire had run the gamut of her emotions that day; the amount of anger he had caused her far outweighed the amount of humour she had taken in his company. There was a moment of panic and an overwhelming sense of dread when she found him and her two animals missing, believing he had broken his promise, and killed them on a whim after all- but he hadn't, proving he was a man of his word. This confused her all the more.

Seated at her vanity, Elizabeth glanced over to Victor and whispered quietly, "What would I do without you?" he raised his head slightly off his paws where he lay by her bed, now replaced in its former spot.

She turned back around and pulled a pen and book from the drawer. It was thick and leather bound, and an attached red ribbon peeked out at the bottom, marking it almost halfway through. Laying it down on the table, Elizabeth opened it and pulled the ribbon away as she smoothed down the page- it was almost completely filled with neat, cursive writing. She uncapped her pen and brought it down to the clean and empty sheet as she wrote down the current date.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **German Translations:**  
>  _Der Spatz_ - The Sparrow  
>  _Bleib_ - Stay  
>  _Danke_ - Thanks  
>  _(Reichs)pfennig_ - A subdivision of the Reichsmark. It's denominations were 1, 2, 5, and 10 coins.  
>  _Reichsmart_ - The currency used in Germany from 1924 to June 20th, 1948 in West Germany, and until June 23rd in East Germany. It was subdivided into 100 by the Reichspfennig.  
>  _Hamsterer_ - Squirrel/Hoarder  
>  _Guten Abend, mein Freund! Wie geht's?_ - Good evening, my friend! How goes it/How are you?  
>  _Sonnenblume_ - Sunflower
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Author's Notes:**  
>  Heya, guys.
> 
> Like how William made terrible poetry that often leaned towards unconscionably phallic descriptions (ie: 'crooked be Cupid's shaft', 'it discharges twixt its wee beak', and ''tis grown a bulge in't'), Spike continues to do so as a vampire. He knows not what he says.
> 
> Lol, the soggy biscuit bit. Uh, if you don't know, be cautious whilst googling it. NSFW.
> 
> I wasn't entirely sure about the values of their currency at the time and how much a loaf of bread was then. From what I gathered, it was worth 8 cents (I'm guessing in USD) before the war (which I estimated with the exchange rate- can't say it's accurate, though), and then by the end of the war, one loaf was about $200 on the black market (which is the value I used in the story). I'm not a history buff, so correct me if I'm wrong.
> 
> Again, I'm iffy with the terminology and working mechanisms of a gun. I did learn a bit about single and double action triggers, as well as semi-automatics. Kinda neat.
> 
> Many things happened in this chapter, lots of mini events and misadventures with Spike tagging along in Liz's 'hood. You just get to see how she lives a 'normal' everyday life, and the more that's revealed, you'll realise just how much she's changed. There are also a lot of things she's discovering about herself with her sire there, things she's been hiding from herself and been in denial about.
> 
> And in usual fashion, I've littered a bunch of foreshadowing and double-entendres in this. Take notes; they'll come up again.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The next chapter will bring this miniseries to a close (fast, wasn't it?). I'll be honest that I've been a little ambivalent with continuing the series as I've been pressed for time, especially with this story originating from a roleplay. I don't plan to RP this (or in general) anymore because it's far too time consuming- taking the drafts from RP and having to edit them involves a process of arranging all the events in chronological order, then having to rewrite scenes and adding more to the story for continuity's sake. I've discussed this at length with my (former) RP mate and co-author, and it's come to a mutual agreement that it would be easier for me to continue writing this without the RP process (sadly, for her) and have it written straight into documents, saving me time (and sanity).
> 
> So, I guess you can welcome (again?) my new (but not entirely) consultant, J, aka vampchick4 (though, she's been doing that since about the last half of the main story).
> 
> I will most likely go back to the first series ( _'Hellfire and Church Bells'_ ) and do a larger edit on the first part of it because I hadn't fully accepted the role of editor, being scared of 'stepping on eggshells', but I've learnt that I need to take hold of the reins if I want to make this a more sound and cohesive story. There won't be any drastic changes, but there may be some small additional things. (I write and edit slowly, so a rereading of this story would highly be suggested- if you guys are still hanging around, lol….)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thanks for reading along, guys, for the comments, favs, and follows. If you want me to keep going, leave a comment below and, I dunno, tell me why? Lol. I seriously do have so much more story to share, but I feel like I'd need a little encouragement, or motivation, possible incentive, lol.
> 
> Also, I've been primarily dedicating myself to this story, but I've shared ideas of AUs of it and possible different scenarios with J. Would anyone be interested in reading them? (Lol, though, I might just post them without your guys' opinions anyway, heh.) I might put a poll up regarding this, but for now, comment below if you're interested.
> 
> Till the next and final chapter, loves.
> 
> \- B.


	3. Part III: I'll Be Seeing You

**September 10, 1943**

A lack of sleep wasn't an issue for Elizabeth, in fact, it was commonplace and begrudgingly welcome to her routine. She had slept little that night, having spent most of her waking hours writing in her diary about the events since her sire had shown up at her door. In addition to keeping a record of her long and immortal life, writing down her thoughts made it more perceptible for her at discerning how she actually felt about past and current situations she was facing, and currently, her sire was one of them. She had discovered from the night before that her feelings for him were deeper than what she made it appear at face value, and seeing it on paper confirmed it to her that she did value his strange friendship and companionship, despite him being an oddity. Though, these were things she only kept to her own thoughts- and diary; telling him would just reward him with an even more inflated ego and cause backlash of an all too easy laugh to her face.

She got up early that morning to fix breakfast for her guests, finding a rare and surprisingly peaceful image of her sire sleeping in her armchair with her little kitten curled up in his lap. Pausing with her lantern in hand, Elizabeth watched them for a moment; the rapid rise and fall of Annabelle's breathing was at ease, unlike the morning before when she was paralysed with fear. Elizabeth turned slowly towards the kitchen.

He was a jigsaw puzzle she couldn't piece together.

As she cooked, she was joined by the sound of tiny clacking claws finding their way to the kitchen, followed by a soft exhalation as fur and warm body plummeted and readjusted to the cold floor.

She smiled before turning around, "Good morning, Victor," she said just above a whisper, not wanting to wake her sire in the other room.

Victor lay by the tableside; he perked up and wagged his tail.

"How about we spend a little time outside before the others wake?"

At mention of the outdoors, Victor immediately clambered up with an even more vigourous and eager swing to his tail.

Elizabeth stifled her giggles with her hand. Finishing up her task, she set her pot onto a trivet to let the contents cool, then picked up her basin and water pail. With a smile, she faced her four-legged companion, "Are we ready?"

Taking those words as permission, Victor led the way, trotting off towards the backdoor. He stood there waiting for his mistress to let him out.

┼†‡

The weather did not work in her favour that morning, the sun finally being unveiled from non-threatening clouds. This should have caused Elizabeth to abandon her plans, but she was undeterred; she was, instead, extremely cautious with her methods and ensured herself that she was completely unexposed from the deadly effects of the sun. From head to toe, she was bundled up like it was a brisk autumn day: her coat was fully buttoned and buckled, and a scarf was wrapped several times around her neck; on her hands, she wore her driving gloves; her feet and legs were armoured with her boots; but more importantly, her head was covered with an overly large, wide brimmed hat, one that was securely held in place with a scarf that Elizabeth had tied beneath her chin. This was to prevent it from falling or- God forbid- being carried away by a sudden gust of wind. Being dressed like this didn't allow Elizabeth the freedom of mobility that she would have liked, nor given her the dexterity and sense of touch if she were barehanded, but what she managed was sufficient, albeit a little clumsy.

She gathered some more ingredients from her garden for what she planned to make for her guests' dinner, all the while plucking some sprouting weeds she would spot and tossing a stick that Victor would drop at her feet, now and again.

Allowing him to run free range and play, Elizabeth rinsed off her vegetables at the groundwater pump. She began to fill her water pail, only to stop partway at the distant sound of Victor's barking. She glanced up to see him running into the barnyard. "Victor!" she called out. He didn't seem to hear her.

Elizabeth quickly strode over to inspect what he had found, though it was the sound of fluttering and squabbling that alerted her of what it was first.

Dodging the black dog's snapping jaws was a chicken. It flapped its wings in vain, merely gaining height at only a few metres before plummeting back down onto the dirt floor, then scattering and scratching over Elizabeth's trusty little Volkswagen.

Elizabeth stood next to Victor and pet him on the head, " _Braver Hund,_  you've found dinner." Removing her hat and peeling off her gloves, the vampire jolted forward and snatched the squawking bird within her grasp. It would make a nice meal for the small family, other than the vegetable dishes she only had to offer, she thought. From what she was taught, rabbit wasn't kosher, but chicken was.

Moving forward, Elizabeth located the hanging hay trolley where a rope remained suspended and dangling below it. Keeping her grip firm on the bird's wings in one hand, she pulled at the rope with her other, extending the line till she had enough to securely wrap around its legs. She pulled at the other end of the line, raising the bird as it fluttered upside down till it was at eye level. Its blood would have to be drained, but Elizabeth wasn't one to let that go to waste. Clutching its warm body within her hands, she pressed it against her transformed face and let her razor fangs graze against its neck, just enough to pierce through skin and vein, but not enough to snap the neck and render it dead. Her lips curled around its feathers as the hot liquid pooled into her mouth; the bird beat her face with a fury of wings, its cries akin to screeching. Within a short minute, the flapping had lessened, and its crying had ebbed down to hardly a peep. Unconsciousness had taken over due to blood loss, but in time, it would soon be dead with no blood at all.

Elizabeth murmured softly as she pulled the last draught of blood from the animal's limp body. Drawing back with a soft gasp, she let go of the bird and licked her lips; she watched it sway gently from the weight of its own body.

She bent down to pick up her hat and gloves, donning them properly as she had appeared before. "I suppose we should be heading back, now," Elizabeth said to Victor as she stood, wiggling her fingers into her glove. "Best to return before the others are awake," she said with a nod. Turning back to the still swaying bird, she plucked it free from the tangles of rope and carried it out with her as Victor trotted at her side.

┼†‡

Elizabeth was back in the kitchen in a timely manner, leaving the bird carcass in the pantry to cool and hang so that any remaining blood would drip out of it. In the meantime, she continued with her first dish as she rolled out a dough. Dividing it into smaller sections, she filled it with her potato and onion filling she had made earlier that morning before wrapping and sealing the edges at the tops to form little parcelled buns.

Her concentration was broken by the sound of loud, plodding boots.

"Good morning," Spike yawned loudly, stretching his arms above his head; Victor followed his movements from where he lay by the tableside.

Elizabeth merely offered a fleeting glance before turning back to her pastries, "Good morning." She painted the tops with an egg wash.

Spike canted his head slightly, noticing a healthy flush to her otherwise usual pallor. Still, the fairness of her skin seemed to be a rather flattering contrast against the forest green dress she was wearing. "You're glowing," he commented in observation.

She paused, being caught off guard by his unsolicited compliment, "Thank you," she began; she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear where the rest of her hair was neatly pinned back in loose curls. She wasn't exactly sure how to react to that, seeing that it was coming from her sire. "We had some time to get some fresh air this morning," she smiled before turning around, only to balk slightly by her sire's sudden proximity.

Spike leaned forward towards her face and sniffed, "Barnyard. Definitely not human." He raised a brow, "Poultry?"

Setting a hand square on his chest, she pushed him aside, " _Excuse_  me."

Spike waddled back and blinked at her with raised brows.

Elizabeth opened the oven and set her tray of knish brusquely inside. "What does it matter what I eat?" she shut the oven door and turned to him with a slight scowl to her face.

"One," Spike raised a hand up with his index finger extended, "saving Jews. Two," his middle finger shot up next, "drinking from barnyard animals. Tell me, does that sound  _remotely_  like the works of a vampire? NO," he answered his own question before she had a chance to reply.

Victor sat up with attentiveness, causing his claws to clatter against the hardwood. He made a muffled attempt at a bark, just to alert them that he was watching.

"Not now, Victor," Spike held a hand up towards the dog as he kept his focus on his progeny, "mummy and daddy are talking."

Elizabeth sighed. She folded her arms, "Yes, you've made your point, now. Is that all you'd like to say to me?"

"Well," Spike straightened himself up, "yeah." He slid his hands into his pockets and glanced at the things she had set out on the counter, "That being all said," he turned to glance at her, "mind putting the kettle on?"

"Tea would be nice right about now," Elizabeth said under her breath, turning to the stove where the kettle sat. "I still have some water from earlier."

"Yes, tea. But I'd like to wash up."

Elizabeth turned to look at her sire.

"It's been… a few days," Spike narrowed his eyes as he peered up in thought, trying to recall the last time he had a bath. "Well, not counting last night," he looked to Elizabeth. "I'm feeling a bit ripe," he removed his coat and draped it across the back of a chair. With his arm still extended, he paused as he lowered his head and sniffed, "Smell it a bit, too."

Elizabeth let out a low breath as she poured the remainder of the hot water into her basin, then added some cool water from the pail she had collected that morning. "I'll fetch you a washcloth from my bedroom-" she halted in her tracks and words as she came upon the sight of her sire disrobing. "What do you  _think_  you're  _doing!_ " she marched over with flushing cheeks as the water sloshed dangerously.

With one hand clutched at the top of his waistband, he let his shirt fall on top of his coat from his other, "You don't expect me to scrub myself with my clothes on," he glanced to her, his tone and expression giving her the impression that she should know better. He proceeded to unbutton the top of his pants.

Elizabeth stopped him when he had his zipper halfway down, "Don't you  _dare!_ " she warned, ready to throw the water at him a second time.

With a roll of his eyes, he sighed, "I've done this in front of you plenty of times before. There isn't much of a difference from what you've already seen."

Her cheeks turned scarlet, "I didn't have a choice; you never gave me warning- just as you haven't now!" she huffed. "And don't make presumptions that I would dare to look. I've always given you the courtesy and dignity of your privacy."

Spike grinned, "How ladylike of you." He grunted when she shoved the basin at his abdomen; water splashed over onto his chest and down his front.

"Erm, excuse me…"

They both turned to see the family standing at the kitchen entrance.

From behind, the mother held her daughter protectively against her body, trying in vain to hide her face to her side, "Don't look, Petra!" she urged. The girl slipped out from her hands, craning to see what was going on in the kitchen as she giggled with curiosity.

"We're sorry for intruding on you two," the father glanced between the two vampires briefly before averting his eyes.

"Oh… oh- oh, no!" Elizabeth's back straightened in realisation at what he was implying. She turned to her sire sharply with a glare as she lowered her voice, "Go wash up in my bedroom. I have washcloths and linens in my dresser," she pressed the basin towards him.

"Fine," Spike complied as he took the rim.

"We would have waited had we known you needed some privacy, but we had an urgent matter," the father explained.

Elizabeth took a step back and turned to her guests with a smile, "Not at all! My friend just needed water for cleaning," she watched her sire trudge past them.

" _Guten Tag!_ " Spike announced in passing.

" _Guten Morgen_ ," both mother and father replied.

"What sort of urgency did you have?" Elizabeth asked, her brows bowing gently.

"Our daughter needs to relieve herself," the mother held her daughter's head against her as the little girl fidgeted.

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth nodded. "There is an outhouse located in the back. I've marked the path with stones that will lead you there; it'll take you right to it."

The mother looked apprehensive.

Elizabeth came forward and gave her a reassuring smile, "Do not worry, the land behind me is safe. The closest farm isn't for another several miles."

"Thank you," the mother replied, sighing in relief.

Elizabeth bent low and smiled at the girl, "And when you return, we'll have some hot knishes for breakfast. Would you like that?"

The girl stared at her with wide eyes but nodded with an eagerness at the sound of more food.

"Come, Petra," the mother held her by the hand.

Elizabeth walked forward and led them to the backdoor, careful to stand behind it as she opened it to let them pass.

She returned to the kitchen to boil more water, finding that the father had remained idly standing as he waited. "Please, have a seat. I'll have some tea ready in a moment."

The man nodded and quietly sat himself down.

Elizabeth didn't waste a moment as she began to prepare something sweet, adding raisins, cinnamon, and sugar into a bowl. She began to chop some walnuts.

Spike sauntered back into the kitchen with the basin in arms. He set it down on the table and picked up his shirt and began to dress himself.

The man's silence broke after some quiet observations, "You love her, don't you?" he said quietly to the other male.

Spike turned to the man. Noticing his fixed gaze, he was correct to assume that he was speaking to him. " _Ja_ ," he replied after a short pause, not bothering to wonder what sort of repercussions his answers would bring.

"She is a kind and brave woman, doing what she does to help others like me and my family. Are you married?"

" _Nein_ ," Spike decided to switch up his answers; he slipped his hands into the waistband of his pants as he tucked in his shirt. He snapped the suspenders back over his shoulders.

Jürgen nodded, sympathetic to his situation, "Times are hard right now, but it's made me realise how precious life really is. Don't waste time waiting for the war to be over to marry her, do it immediately if you love her."

The kettle began to whistle.

He hunched forward towards Spike, "Protect her, friend. Keep her safe," he nodded.

Spike blinked, wondering if he had more to say. When he was met with only an intense stare, it was his cue that it was his turn to speak, " _Ja, ja_ ," he nodded. He pulled on his coat and sat down at the table across from him. Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter. He peered into the near empty box with a small frown as he lit one between his lips, puffing on it before exhaling a stream of smoke through his nostrils.

"Please don't smoke inside when I have other guests staying here," Elizabeth came over with a tray of tea.

Spike peered up at her and exhaled, "You didn't have an issue with it before."

"That's because it was only you and I at the time," Elizabeth set the table for three- the third chair having been borrowed from her bedroom. "There's a little girl living here now. I don't want the effects of the smoke to harm her," she explained, frowning at her sire. She knew that he was hardheaded, but she hoped he would listen to reason.

"He hasn't made any complaints," Spike gestured across the table. Though, it wasn't as though he would have understood the man if he had.

Elizabeth turned to Jürgen, "I apologise on behalf of my friend's actions. I've asked him to stop smoking if it bothers you."

"It is all right," he smiled, "he may enjoy himself. Though my wife might say otherwise."

They heard the sound of a door opening and closing before the mother and daughter reappeared in the kitchen shortly after.

Inge glanced over at Spike and scrunched up her nose. Not making any comments, she bent down to kiss Petra on top of her head as she shuffled her forward.

Jürgen smiled to himself at the scene of that.

"Would it be possible to have some water for cleaning?" she straightened herself up and held her daughter in front of her.

"No, not at all; of course," Elizabeth turned to fetch the kettle. Returning to the table, she glanced down into the basin water, "Do you mind that it's already been used?"

Inge shook her head, "Water is water. We are grateful, nonetheless."

Elizabeth dunked a finger past the still surface, feeling that it had already cooled to lukewarm before adding more hot water to it. Happy with the temperature, she lifted the basin with her, "Let me fetch you some washcloths and towels," she said, leading them into her room for more privacy.

She shut the door behind them to find that her sire had left a damp cloth and towel on her vanity. Other than that, everything in her room appeared orderly and in place. Putting the basin down, she turned to her wardrobe and pulled open the dresser below it. She lifted out a clean and dry washcloth along with a towel for drying and set them on her bed.

"I'll leave you in peace," Elizabeth said as she stepped out, closing the door behind her.

┼†‡

She returned to the kitchen to find her sire sitting alone, his cigarette nearly finished, and his tea half empty. "Where is he?"

"Who? Do you mean 'Loquacious Lucas'?"

"Jürgen."

"Oh, is that his name?" Spike exhaled and stubbed out his cigarette as Elizabeth impatiently sighed. "Killed the bugger and tossed him out the door."

Elizabeth's glowering lapsed momentarily as her eyes widened, "William!"

"You're no fun," Spike rolled his eyes. "I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders with indifference as he sipped at his tea, "he stepped out. 'Suppose he went to use the lav."

Elizabeth exhaled sharply and straightened up as she marched to the oven, "Of course."

Spike watched as she removed the tray of baked pastries out onto the counter, "You must make me out to be some sort of killing machine- I mean, I am, though I have some standards."

Elizabeth shut the oven door and spun around to face him, "Enlighten me," she arched a brow as she placed a hand on her hip.

"For starters, I'm not hungry."

"God,  _forbid!_ " Elizabeth remarked with sarcasm and incredulous laughter.

"Mm, and," Spike raised a finger as he took another sip of tea; he swallowed before setting it back down, "I'm not nearly as bored- yet."

Elizabeth crossed her arms.

"But you know, that cabin fever. I can feel it lurking at the base of my skull, creeping behind my eyes. Bets are all off when that takes over. I'm not to blame what happens after that," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"They'll be gone by nightfall," Elizabeth reminded him.

This time, Spike glanced up at her with a smirk.

It chilled her, not knowing what that meant. It could have been in jest, but they both knew he was very capable of killing the entire young family if he so desired, even if it was on a whim of boredom, or just to spite her.

"Please," she checked her ego this time, finding herself humbled for the sake of the family's safety, "I'll ensure that they won't bother you. I know it must require a great strength of patience to share this small space with them, especially when you don't have the luxury of leaving being that it's daytime, but I've also offered you shelter in my own home. I'd hope you would extend the courtesy of my request to leave them be."

Spike canted his head as he peered at her in silence. "Huh," a sound he finally uttered. "It almost sounds like you're begging me."

Elizabeth lowered her eyes in defeat, "I am," she said simply before raising her gaze back to him.

Spike nodded as he smiled, "That seems more like it," he giggled.

The family was reunited as they entered the kitchen, first the mother and daughter, followed by the father.

This was Spike's cue to leave. "I'll consider it," he said to Elizabeth as he stood.

With bowed brows, Elizabeth followed his movement.

"I'll find ways to keep myself entertained," he walked past her and took hold of one of the cooling knishes off the tray, "but if all else fails-"

Elizabeth widened her eyes and raised her hand to warn him, but it was too late.

Spike took a large bite out of it and ended up half gagging and moaning. "Oouhbluh-y 'ucking 'ellw!" he yelped, gasping with the piping hot morsel still dancing on his tongue. He bent over with his mouth wide open, allowing the chunk of it to fall onto the floor. Victor immediately sat up and trotted over to claim his prize.

The little girl began to giggle as Spike straightened himself up, moaning as he clamped a hand over his burning mouth.

"Shh, Petra, it's rude to laugh at another's misfortune," her mother warned, holding her against her body. The girl buried her face into her mother's side as she hugged her, trying to hide her laughter. She peeked out to see the scowl on the man's face and couldn't help but smile.

"I… I tried to warn you," Elizabeth began.

Spike only glared at her, unable to say much of anything.

"You may find something cool to drink in the pantry. There's still some milk. Or perhaps you'd like blood," she suggested.

Spike continued to silently glare. Letting a short exhalation out, he turned on his spot towards the pantry.

With a smile, Elizabeth faced her awaiting guests, "Please, have a seat at the table."

"Will he be all right?" Jürgen sat down in his former spot.

"In time," Elizabeth referred to her sire's slightly bruised ego more than his scalded tongue. She set down a plate of knishes at the centre of the table, catching the girl staring at the golden domes, "We'll just have to wait for them to cool properly before eating them, won't we? We wouldn't want to end up like that silly man," she smiled.

The girl smiled back at her and nodded.

┼†‡

Spike located one of the jars of blood on the pantry floor with the aid of his lighter. Quick to unscrew the lid, he took a swig of blood and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. He sighed as the cool liquid comforted his still smarting tongue.

Clutching the surprisingly refreshing beverage in hand, Spike periodically took sips from it as he held his lighter up to the surrounding shelves. He dodged the hanging chicken that had somehow been placed there since his last visit and sidestepped around the pail that was placed underneath it. Probably Elizabeth's breakfast, he figured. Setting the jar down on one of the shelves, he rummaged past other miscellaneous jars and containers till he reached the backing where he saw rows upon rows of cleverly hidden books. He leaned in closer and held the light forward towards the spines, squinting as he strained to make out the titles. He sighed in frustration to see that most were in German. Taking a small break to gulp down more soothing blood, he continued his search on a lower shelf when he finally came upon an English title. He snatched it out to discover it was the work by none other than fellow Englishman, H. G. Wells.

"Hmm." Spike turned the book over in his hand as he examined the cover. Wells was a man from his period, a Victorian, someone who was a little over a decade his junior, but who was raised in a different socioeconomic class. Spike had heard his name mentioned over the passing years since Wells had started getting recognition from the title he held in his hand- 'The Time Machine'- a heralded and uniquely written novel in the scientific romance theme. Spike had been curious about his works, especially since he had been credited as 'the father of science fiction'. That wasn't something that was really on par with the vampire's interests. However, Spike did hold an intrigue if the man could portray convincing unworldly universes that could only be visited through the imagination- such as the one Spike currently lived in. He tucked the hardcover in the inner pocket of his coat.

Swiping the half empty jar of blood off the shelf, he turned to exit the pantry, but not without a couple of small jabs at the suspended bird carcass. He slipped out to leave it swing violently behind him.

┼†‡

He'd made himself scarce, first relocating to the sitting room, only to have that space invaded shortly after by the girl who swooped in to play with his progeny's pets. Spike abruptly got up from the armchair and retreated into Elizabeth's bedroom, hoping to find a little peace and quiet to read. He was joined later by his small and self-imposed companion who didn't seem to fear him.

He pet Annabelle as she padded towards him on the bed top where he lay lounged, "Decided to pick a lesser evil, have you?" he heard the girl giggle loudly from the sitting room. "Smart," he nodded.

An hour had passed undisturbed as he immersed himself in Wells' futuristic world- till the smell of something sweet and enticing wafted in. He pulled himself from the bed to investigate what other sorts of goodies his progeny had baked.

┼†‡

Elizabeth hadn't seen her sire since he'd silently left the pantry clutching the Mason jar of blood that morning. She presumed he had sauntered off to be left alone in her bedroom. Wary as she was with him being there, she'd allowed it, as he didn't have any other privacy with the little girl taking up the area in the sitting room.

She preoccupied her time in the kitchen with some cleaning, then invited the girl to help her prepare rugelach- sweet, rolled up pastries that were crescent in shape and resembled miniature croissants. They filled them with the cinnamon walnut and raisin mixture Elizabeth had fixed earlier as the girl's mother watched.

Leaving them to bake for about thirty minutes and to cool for several more, Elizabeth dished up a few of the pieces and brought them to the other room where she joined the girl and her parents as they watched her play. She glanced up from the floor to see her sire stomp by and into the kitchen, along with Annabelle dashing after him as she tried to keep up with her stubby legs. Elizabeth turned back around when the girl excitedly exclaim that she watch her do something.

A moment later, Spike reappeared at the kitchen doorway. He held up a pastry and stared at Elizabeth, "Are they-"

"Yes, they've cooled down enough," she replied. "They're rugelach-" he turned on his spot and disappeared back into the kitchen. She sighed.

Within seconds, he strutted back out with a hand clutched full of the sweets and a book in the other. Raising a curious brow, Elizabeth watched him. With his head bowed and nose deep in the book, he walked blindly back to her room with Annabelle stumbling after him. Strangely, this was an image she could relate to, but it was bizarre to see her sire appearing to be the bookworm instead of her.

┼†‡

Another hour had passed, time that was filled with avid eyes flitting across pages, and chewy, warm and sweet pastries stuffed with dried fruits and nuts. Spike had devoured both novel and confectionaries, being captivated by the Time Traveller's stories of intrigue and peril. He could now see why Wells had received that sort of praise.

Pushing himself upright, Spike stretched, only to notice soon after he'd left a dusting of cinnamon and crumbs down his front and across the sheets. He brushed himself off with his fingers, then got rid of the evidence by dropping the crumbs to the floor with a sweep of his hands across the bed top. Annabelle unfurled herself from her napping pinwheel form and arched her back before attacking his hands.

Unfazed by her playful ambush, Spike picked her up and cradled her within his palm, "What am I to do now, Tinker Bell?" he sighed. Laughter from the other four funnelled into the room. Spike drummed his fingers against the bed as he peered at the door. With a sigh, he heaved himself up and plopped Annabelle behind him back onto the mattress. She watched him curiously from her perch as he moved away.

He had no real motives with his actions at that moment, he just found himself wanting to be distracted from the noises outside. Seeing as Elizabeth appeared to have a stockpile of books on hand, he suspected she would have a few laying around in her own room. Spike pulled open her nightstand drawer first, finding a matchbox and a couple of editions that were unfortunately written in the German language- as well as the roll of banknotes he had witnessed her slipping down her dress. He raised a brow, "Not exactly a secure place for safe-keeping," he mumbled before shutting it. He kept a note about her stash… just in case.

Annabelle scurried forward along the mattress as Spike made his way towards the wardrobe

Flinging the doors open, he peered around inside, poking and prodding at her hanging coats and dresses. He began to open the drawers beneath it, hoping to find something that was of more interest than the towels he had pulled from them earlier that morning. To his dismay, there were only more towels to be found. Finding a hidden bible would have been infinitely more exciting. He sighed as he glanced around at the state of disarray he had made. With a swift kick of his boot, he knocked the bottom drawer back into place, which was quickly followed by a knee to the top one. He was about to slam the doors shut too, when he noticed something seemed to have dislodged from its place when he'd made all that unnecessary ruckus. One of the folded scarves on the top shelf had shifted forward, but the shape of it seemed odd, like it was concealing something rigid. He reached up and felt it, confirming his suspicions.

"What have we got here?" he pulled it out and uncovered it. With a high arched brow, he peered down at the pistol in his hands. "Your mum's got a lot of secrets, doesn't she?" Spike glanced over his shoulder at the kitten.

Annabelle pawed at the edge of the bed, wanting to move closer, but with the threat of falling at her great height, was too scared to try.

Hefting the thing in his hands, Spike noticed the empty slot where the magazine should have been. "Huh. Not much use this is," he scratched his head with a finger. With a shrug, he wrapped the pistol back into the safety of the scarf and shoved it back in the wardrobe. Closing the doors shut, Spike turned to the vanity table this time.

He tugged on the centre drawer, though it didn't budge. He yanked a little harder but was met with more resistance. Not one with much patience, he moved on to the next of many, and pulled open the top right drawer with ease. There, he found a couple of tiny glass perfume bottles, a few containers- which he suspected carried powders or creams of sorts- some small tube-like objects- which he recognised to be lipsticks- pencils, an eyelash curler, and some small brushes. The next two to follow carried a kit of sewing needles, threads, buttons, shears, and the like; knitting needles, crochet hooks, and several balls and skeins of yarns. Moving onto the left, the first held a theme of hair products- bobby pins and curlers. This was carried onto the next, where a curling wand was tucked next to a jewellery box. The last drawer carried scraps of cloth that appeared to have been cut from old and reused clothes used for patching up.

Spike folded his arms across his chest as he stared at a vanity table that wasn't even half used for its sole purpose, unsatisfied and bored. Though, the remaining and unexplored drawer continued to tickle his growing curiosity. He brought a lantern over and crouched down, hovering it low where the metal knobs glinted from the flickering flame.

"What did I tell you, Tinker Bell," his focus held in position as he brushed his fingers over a tiny keyhole, "bloody secrets," a smirk glimmered over his lips. Setting the lantern on the vanity top, he began to pick the lock with one of Elizabeth's bobby pins. After a bit of poking around, a click was heard when he felt something give. Spike grinned as he pulled open the drawer, "And there you have it-" he gazed down at nothing more than some loose papers, a couple of pens, and a leatherbound book. His short-lived joy dimmed to a frown. "Hmph. Thought I'd find something more exciting," he sighed, rustling around the items to see if there was more to it.

During that time, Annabelle had somehow summoned enough courage to jump off the bed. She made a poor attempt at pouncing onto Spike's lap, making it only partway up his pant leg, and having to scramble the rest of the way up. She craned to see what he was doing as she stood on her hind legs and propped her front paws against the open drawer.

Spike lifted the book out and set it on the tabletop, leaning over slightly with the ginger kitten tucked beneath his chin. Opening it to the first page, he canted his head as his eyes slowly widened in realisation- it was a diary.  _Her_  diary.

He wasn't entirely sure why she had bothered with all the security measures of keeping it in a locked drawer, seeing as her only guests were the rare and common German folk she had taken in as refugees, who he suspected, weren't English literate, as that was the language his progeny had chosen to write in. Nonetheless, this did not concern him, nor was it was a complaint on his part; this only allowed him another form of entertainment- and perhaps, some snide remarks and emotional blackmail he could throw at her in the future.

Juggling book, cat, and lantern in hand, Spike shuffled to the bed and lounged comfortably back against the pillows. Annabelle adjusted herself atop of his chest before submitting to a comfortable ball, all whilst Spike peered over her as he skimmed over Elizabeth's cursive handwriting. The date indicated that she hadn't been writing her diary for that long- just a few months in that year- but from what she had written, one could surmise she had one- if not more- prior to it.

_February 22, 1943_

_I was devastated to learn that Sophie and Hans Scholl and Christoph Probst were executed today. It was a feeling that I haven't been haunted by in most recent years, even with the coming and duration of both wars. Their Movement gave me hope in these bleak times, an ember glowing in this dark chaos mankind has made of itself, that perhaps, there is humanity worth fighting for. Worth saving._

_Their passive resistance was not a form of cowardice; they were brave and honourable._

_They'd re-awakened something inside of me, something I hadn't felt since I was a girl . . . and though I wasn't readily compelled to act on what I'd heard through media, their captures and deaths has instilled a fire in me. I will no longer tolerate such ruthless oppression of this Nazi, fascist mentality. I've been quiet most of my whole life; I've made myself scarce and invisible. But, what life is it that I'm living if I do not_ _live_   _it? If mere mortals can act on their morals with passive conduct, surely I could lend my abilities of strength and speed to further their cause._

_Before Hans was executed, he proclaimed: 'Long live freedom!'_

_These are words to live by._

Spike was puzzled. Those names seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite recall where he recognised them from- nor understand Elizabeth's semi-cryptic entry. His gaze lingered on the date, then flitted over the names again as he skimmed the passage, only to hover back to the capitalisation of the word 'Movement'. His eyes triangulated over those key words till they finally widened. "Oh." He lids slowly closed as he brought a palm to his head, "Oh…."

The three mentioned had been part of a clandestine passive resistance movement comprised of a few Munich University students that distributed anti-Nazi and anti-war leaflets; they called themselves The White Rose movement. It was because of their righteous- and undoubtedly foolish- actions, that caused them to get caught and executed, but because of that, their entire ideology had seemed to inspire his progeny's unreasonable cause of wanting to rescue Jews.

Spike groaned again, " _Oh…._ "

He wasn't sure if he wanted to continue to read her private diary if it was going to be filled with her efforts of 'fighting a worthy cause'. With a heavy sigh, he raised the book closer and turned the page, hoping he'd be rewarded for his perseverance. He was wrong. The following entries were accounts of how she had gotten involved with her rescuing Jewish families, and the few that had stayed in her home. He briefly skimmed each page, but ended up turning them just as quickly when he wasn't satisfied with the content Elizabeth had filled them with. He was nearing their current date, and when it fell to something written for the day before, he paused. Within the first sentence of the entry- first  _word_ \- was his name. He settled down more comfortably now that he found some reading material that was more to his liking.

' _William has found me.'_ she had written.

"It's bloody ' _Spike'!_ " he muttered scathingly at her words. He did see his current nom de guerre soonafter, but it wasn't filled with appraising remarks. Thinking he'd confront her about her calling his new name 'ridiculous' and his actions- which she hadn't written directly but suggestively implied- were done by a blundering idiot, he held back. She had revealed some things he wasn't aware of.

Spike shut the diary and placed it next to him on the bedside, allowing his hands free to pet his vibrating and content companion. His moment of peace was broken again when an uproar of laughter brought him to sit upright. As much as he didn't want to interact with the humans sharing his space, he wanted to know what was causing them so much joy.

┼†‡

"Papa, you've lost again!" Petra cried loudly.

"Oh, no! I have such bad luck," Jürgen smiled sheepishly with a shake of his head. "I'm ready to accept my punishment," he waited expectantly with his chin jutted out; there were several streaks of soot across his cheeks.

Petra lept up from the floor with a giggle as she held a lump of coal within her grasp and stood before her father.

"Try to make me more handsome."

The ladies giggled. Victor lay nearby unamused as he watched with drowsy eyes.

"I'll help you grow your beard," Petra rubbed the coal against the bottom of his chin.

"Thank you,  _Sonnenblume_." He stroked the stubble along the length of his chin, "I feel more manly already," he glanced to the other ladies in the room.

They all burst out into laughter.

Out of habit, Elizabeth covered her nose and mouth with a modest hand as she giggled. She watched as Petra settled back down in front her mother. She was happy they could forget their troubles and matters of the world for the moment, but she couldn't help but feel a bit envious, being reminded of her family, one that lacked such a loving dynamic despite being surrounded by luxuries. It also made her more aware of her own loneliness.

Inge poked the small black spot at the end of Petra's nose, "We'll need to cover more of you than just that," she smiled and pulled her daughter in closer as she hugged her from behind.

Petra turned to glance up at her with a frown, "No! Mama, you've always said I must try to stay clean. I don't want to get dirty!"

The three adults laughed some more.

"That's why I don't have any soot on my face," she smiled.

"You're too pretty to be covered in soot," Petra said in earnest.

"Thank you,  _Sonnenblume_ ," Inge kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Then I'll have to be the first to draw on your Mama's face!" Jürgen proclaimed.

Petra spun around to face him, "No!" she shielded her mother protectively. "Papa,  _you'll_  be the one covered in black soot!"

The three laughed again at the child's valour.

"Why, such a brave young lady you are, Petra," Elizabeth smiled, sporting a couple of smears of black on her own features.

The sound of stomping boots broke their cheerful moment.

Elizabeth peered up to see her sire, but was more surprised to see him cradling her kitten.

Spike glanced around the lot of them, noting the traces of soot on their faces, especially on his progeny's and the Jewish man's. He looked to Elizabeth, "Decided to make your own gas chamber?"

Elizabeth's smile vanished for a moment before forcing one, "No,  _William_ , we were just playing  _Schwarzer Peter_ ; it's a variation of old maid. Sorry, were we bothering you by being too loud?"

"Yeah, you were."

Elizabeth let out a soft sigh.

"Would he like to join us?" Jürgen turned to Elizabeth as he shuffled the cards.

She paused briefly at the man's kind invitation, thinking he wouldn't have done so if she had translated that crude and anti-Semitic joke her sire had just made. She glanced up at Spike, "Jürgen… asks if you would like to join us," she said with hesitation.

Spike scoffed, "Playing old maid?" he continued to stroke Annabelle. "Well, if you insist," he passed this off with a nonchalant shrug as he walked forward.

Elizabeth lowered her head to hide her rolling eyes.

"Glad to have you here," Jürgen scooted over to make room, allowing the space next to Elizabeth available. "The more, the merrier."

" _Ja_ ," Spike replied indifferently as he sat down crossed legged, plopping Annabelle down onto his lap.

Elizabeth raised a slight brow at her sire's newfound affection for her kitten but made no comments.

With a stretch of her short limbs, Annabelle repositioned herself onto Spike's thigh and resumed her nap.

They picked up their cards after Jürgen had finished dealing them and began to discard the matching pairs.

"What's with the soot?" Spike kept his focus on his cards as he laid a pair down.

"In Greece, it's called  _muntzuris_ \- in other words, 'smudged'- because the winners would smudge the loser with soot," Elizabeth smiled as she discarded a couple herself. "I thought it'd allow things to be more lively and evoke a more literal 'Black Peter'."

"'Black Peter'?" Spike cocked a brow.

"That's what Germans call it. Black Peter is usually represented by a black cat or chimney sweeper. The coal only made sense."

"Huh," the sound of sweeping cards followed. "I suppose if ol' Yurg loses anymore, he'd be completely black faced."

Elizabeth giggled, "I suppose he would-"

"Would that still be considered racist if it's coming from a Jew?"

Elizabeth turned to Spike with a look of confusion. Cards were being drawn which forced her to stop from deliberating on her sire's words.

"It's your turn, Liz," Spike quipped with a glint in his eye.

It appeared that Jürgen's losing streak had finally ended, crowning Elizabeth as his replacement.

"You must be my lucky charm, friend," Jürgen said to Spike with a laugh.

Spike turned to Elizabeth with a little too much glee and excitement, "Does that mean you get marked? Oh, oh! May I do it? Please? I volunteer!" he raised his arm like a schoolboy.

"I've never seen you so excited over someone else's misfortune," her smile was sarcastic.

Spike grinned with the coal in hand. He swivelled on his spot to face her as his progeny's brows creased with some apprehension. Spike narrowed his eyes as he tilted her chin this way and that.

Elizabeth sighed in frustration, "Does it really need to take this long?"

"Hush. Never rush an artist at his craft," Spike's eyes scrutinised each aspect of her features.

With another roll of her eyes, Elizabeth sighed.

A slow grin broke out across Spike's face, "I've got it!" He tilted her chin upwards towards him as he brought the coal below her nose and rubbed the spot on her upper lip.

"Are you giving me a moustache?" Elizabeth's voice was slightly muffled.

"Yes, the  _Führer's_."

Her eyes snapped open with shock, "William, that is unacceptable!"

Spike paused as he pulled the coal away from her, "But you look so fetching."

"It is absolutely insensitive to their current plight! Draw me a larger moustache or I'll do it myself!" she held out her hand to him.

Spike scoffed, "Losers aren't allowed to use the coal, only winners are."

Elizabeth glared at him.

"Fine," he jerked her chin upwards again. He extended the smudge of soot over the entire length of her upper lip, "You've just destroyed a masterpiece."

"I'm sure I appear just as dashing," she replied tartly. She turned back to her other guests and smiled, "How do I look?"

The three began to laugh.

"More handsome than my husband," Inge teased.

They resumed their game as Elizabeth dealt another hand. This time, it was Spike to lose.

He pursed his lips as Elizabeth exposed a toothy grin.

"I do believe Christmas has arrived early this year," she held the coal in her hand as she smirked at her sire.

"Getting a lump of coal means you've been bad," he said pointedly.

"Well," she shrugged, "I suppose I have," her grin only widened as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Now, close your eyes."

"What?" Spike's brows shot up.

"I don't want to get any soot in them."

He sighed and reluctantly shut them.

Elizabeth bit down on her lip to keep herself from laughing. "All right, I'm… done," she held onto her composure till he turned to face the others. She joined them as they burst into laughter.

"You've given me a black eye, haven't you?" Spike arched a brow as he glanced to her, exposing the clear black ring that extended over his scarred brow and across his sharp cheekbone.

"You… you wear it so well," Elizabeth managed through her fits.

Spike sighed, "Well played," he nodded. He weaved his fingers together and stretched his arms outward before rolling back his shoulders, "We've got time for a few more rounds."

They played for several more games. Jürgen ended up having the most streaks on his face, his daughter, Petra, had a few smears and smudges, and even his wife had finally succumbed to a few losses, but not without having her protective daughter trying to fight off her ultimate fate. Elizabeth's moustache was matched with a scant beard and curling sideburns, whereas Spike's black eye was complemented with another. They were supplemented with a hanging widow's peak and even more hollowed cheeks than his already natural ones, making him appear ghoulish.

Elizabeth managed to slip away to prepare dinner, feeling a little more at ease that her sire was distracted enough with the card game to think of hurting her guests. Hearing them in the other room, she was reminded of all the games she and her sire had played in the past. This bit of nostalgia she didn't mind so much, but it did add to her loneliness. Forcing herself to focus, Elizabeth plucked and cleaned the bird carefully and reserved the organs for Annabelle. When it was finally in the oven, she came back out to the sitting room.

"Elizabeth, explain to them how to play whist."

She took a couple of slow steps forward, "Oh, I... my brother and father used to play that with their peers. I wasn't allowed to join them in the cardroom."

Spike turned to her with his full on facade and a high arched brow, "Are you saying you don't know how to play?"

Elizabeth silently shook her head.

Spike sighed, "Well, take a seat, mouse. I suppose I'll be teachin' the whole lot of you."

After Elizabeth had tried her best at explaining the rules of play to her guests, she took a seat across from her sire as he suggested. This was a card game between two teams- he being paired with Elizabeth, and Jürgen with his wife, respectively. Being based on strategic moves to win the most tricks, Spike thought it would make more sense if he had some knowhow of his partner's moves since he was Elizabeth's sire. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"I should have picked the mother. Makes sense with her having the least amount of soot covering her face."

"I'm trying my best!" Elizabeth said in her defense. "I've just learnt how to play!"

"So have the Jews, but you don't see them making such poor decisions."

Elizabeth glared over her cards at him.

It was proven over the next hour that Inge was not just winning from beginner's luck, having earned her team six wins to one.

"Oh, to lose at an English game at the hands of a couple of Germans. Will this also be the outcome of this war?" Spike moaned.

"Stop being such a spoilsport!  _You're_  the one with the most experience yet you've hardly shown enough skill!"

"I won that one game, didn't I?  _Clearly_  some _one_  was hindering my strategies,  _Elizabeth_ ," Spike glared.

Elizabeth stood, "I… I won't be accused of being the cause of your losses over a silly card game! I need to attend to dinner!" she turned back to the kitchen with raised shoulders.

┼†‡

After half an hour had passed, Elizabeth reemerged in a much more composed manner, "Dinner is ready," she smiled.

Spike followed suit when he saw them heading towards the kitchen. There, Elizabeth had a basin set up on the counter with towels and a bar of soap for cleaning. Husband and wife laughed at each other as they helped each other clean their faces. When they had left the area to dry off, Spike took their place, applying a lather of soap before scrubbing around blindly. He splashed the soap off as Elizabeth approached him.

"William," she giggled, "you still have a bit of…"

"What?" There was a grey watermark along his hairline, and though the black around his eyes had been mostly removed, his pallor made him appear like he lacked sleep.

"Let me help you," she laughed gently.

"All right," he sighed, knowing where his weaknesses lay.

She took a damp towel to the areas he had missed and rubbed with a light touch. "There," she smiled.

"Give it here," Spike motioned with his hand.

"I've got it all already. You don't trust me?" her brows creased with a bit of disappointment.

"No, you've missed some, too."

Elizabeth raised her brows and blinked.

"Ask them if you want," Spike challenged, knowing she was a little mistrustful of him. "Come on, now, they're staring," Spike motioned with his hand again.

Elizabeth darted a glance to her guests to see that they were indeed watching, though with the way Jürgen was whispering, and the smiles on their faces, they most likely had other ideas of them other than her apparent defiance. Elizabeth turned to Spike and slowly placed the towel in his awaiting hand.

Spike tilted her chin upwards again, but with less force. She waited as he swabbed the areas of her face, finding that he was rather gentle.

"I do this with Dru all the time," he said, seeming to have read her mind.

"Of course," she replied. She'd witnessed that enough from him to have known that, but his brashness often made her forget how gentle he could be, a side that he only showed his lover. She watched his face; she missed being touched like that.

"There, cleaner than a freshly powdered baby's bottom." Spike turned and tossed the towel into the dirty basin water; Elizabeth lowered her eyes and blinked.

She cleared her throat, "Unfortunately, I only have three seats available."

"Liar," Spike accused.

Elizabeth turned to him in shock, "I beg your-"

He stomped out of the room to leave her in mid-sentence. Within seconds, he returned with the armchair from the sitting room, carrying it with ease.

"He's very strong," Jürgen commented as he watched Spike plop it down with less grace.

"There, four." Spike straightened himself up as he turned to Elizabeth.

"That's very clever of you, but we are still five persons." She had barely finished her sentence when Inge brought Petra to her lap, claiming the cushioned armchair.

"It's like sitting on a throne," Petra announced.

"That solves your little conundrum. Now, shall we eat?"

"Yes, it does," Elizabeth admitted, slightly in defeat- though she didn't know why.

She sat at the end across from Jürgen and passed a plate towards her sire, "Don't think I didn't notice that bit of bashing you did on the bird. There were broken bones."

"The thing was already dead. You're not defending the dead now, are you?" Spike slid the plate in front of him as he faced the disapproval from his progeny. "I was helping tenderise the meat," he added.

"Sparrow, this is delicious!" Inge praised. "This is such a delight; it's so moist!"

"And tender," Jürgen added.

"What did they say?" Spike asked.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile, "They said it's delicious- and tender." She looked down at her plate of roasted chicken and vegetables and began to giggle.

┼†‡

With the setting sun, her contact finally arrived to pick up the young family.

He knocked on her door in a specific manner before she opened it. "Are they ready?" he was a large man with broad shoulders and strong features, but he was soft spoken.

"They are," Elizabeth widened the door to let him through.

"We'll need to leave now," he said, unmoving. He glanced over her head to see the family nervously peering up at him.

"May I have a moment with them?"

He stood with his back to her as he waited at the door, "Be quick about it, Sparrow."

Elizabeth turned to them with a reassuring smile, "He's the man I told you about. He'll be guiding you on the next part of your journey."

Inge and Jürgen glanced at each other and clasped each other's hands, both keeping a grasp on each of their daughter's shoulders who stood in front of them. There were tears of hope in their eyes.

"Wait here, I have something for you." Elizabeth retreated to her room and returned shortly with a wad of money in her hand, "Take this."

"Oh no, we couldn't," Inge tried to refuse it, but Elizabeth pressed it into her palm.

"Every bit of money counts. It isn't much, but it'll help you get started on your new lives," she smiled to each one of them.

"Th-thank you!" Inge sobbed as she pulled Elizabeth into an embrace, overwhelmed by the generosity of a complete stranger. "I don't know how we could ever repay you," she pulled back and clutched the money to her chest. Jürgen pressed and massaged her shoulder in comfort, but he was just as moved.

"It isn't necessary," Elizabeth shook her head, feeling a need to keep her own emotions at bay. "Your company here was enough," she glanced down at the girl and patted her on the head.

Elizabeth handed them a parcel of the leftover knish and rugelach before they walked out the door, "In case you get hungry," she said, her voice almost breaking.

The mother quickly nodded, saying nothing more. They filed out as they waited for their escort.

"Sparrow, I need the paper," the hulking man said.

"Of course, of course," Elizabeth brushed a tear from beneath her eye as she turned, dashing back to where her edition of Hitler's book lay from prying eyes. With her fingernails, she carefully pinched in between the seams of the cover and slid out the paper she had hid there a couple days ago. She returned to the door with haste, "The new location," she said, handing it to him.

He nodded and tucked it into his coat before turning away.

"Bear," Elizabeth called out.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

"Please, keep them safe."

"I always do."

Elizabeth watched from her doorway as Bear led them away, following them carefully before they were swallowed in the darkness of the night. She shut the door behind her and leaned back against the door, bowing her head as she collected her thoughts.

It was always such a bittersweet thing- feeling that she had accomplished something, helping a family in need, giving them a chance to live normal lives- and yet, it was always so sad to see them depart, having developed relationships with each one of them, only to have them leave… to leave her with her loneliness.

"Are they finally gone?" Spike called out.

Elizabeth raised her head, having forgotten she wasn't quite by herself, yet.

She sniffed and quickly rubbed at her eyes again, "Yes, they're gone." She walked forward and found him seated in the armchair by the record player, peering down at one of her records he held in his hands.

"Good," he tossed it aside before leaning forward to light a cigarette. Exhaling, he lounged back and stretched his legs out in front of him, "You'll take me out to town now, as promised?"

Elizabeth carefully inspected the record for any damage before sliding it back in its sleeve. She peered up at her sire with a sigh, "A promise is a promise," she tucked it away in the shelf below the player and stood.

Spike grinned, "And I get to drive?" the cigarette wagged at the corner of his mouth.

"As long as you get it back in one piece," her voice held an edge of sternness like a mother's.

"Not sure why you'd care so much over that rickety old thing. If it gets damaged, you could replace it with one from your stockpile."

Her brows drew together into a scowl, "Will-"

"' _Spike_ '," he sat forward, quick to interject with as much annoyance. He pushed himself to his feet, "All right, fine. I'll treat it like it were my firstborn."

Elizabeth crossed her arms with a simple nod, marginally satisfied with his response. "Let me get my coat," she sighed as she headed to her bedroom.

The sheets on her bed appeared a little rumpled, noting the area where her sire took comfort, but things were still in place, which came to a surprise to her. Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Spike had replaced her diary in its former spot.

"How about we get a bite?" Spike called out.

Elizabeth patted down her hair and repinned it, ensuring her curls were held firmly in place, "I suppose we could," she replied loudly, taking into consideration it had been a few hours since their last meal. She put on her coat before pausing. Turning back to her vanity table, she pulled open her makeup drawer and picked out a tube of lipstick. It was a bright red which appeared even more startling against her porcelain skin. She blotted the excess against a facial tissue as she pressed her lips together.

"Victor, I'll be leaving now," Elizabeth reemerged from her room as she tied a scarf around her neck.

Victor peered up at her and barked, followed by a soft whine.

She knelt down and pet him, "Don't worry, I won't be gone long. Keep your sister safe," she glanced up to see Annabelle pouncing on her sire's boot.

"Ready?" Spike exhaled and nudged the kitten aside.

Elizabeth stood and nodded.

┼†‡

Spike trotted to the car with a little swagger in his step and slid onto the driver's seat. When Elizabeth had settled down next to him, he turned to her and grinned, "Hang tight, love," he faced forward as he turned the ignition and gripped the steering wheel. Before Elizabeth could utter a word in response, he slammed down on the accelerator and sped forward.

Elizabeth was thrown back against her seat, " _W-William!_ " she cried, bracing her hands against the door and dashboard as her sire laughed, driving with reckless abandon.

Retracing the route she had taken, Spike swerved now and again at the curves of the roads, humming happily with each sudden jerk as though nothing were amiss. His humour was amplified with each gasp and hiss he heard from beside him.

He finally slowed down when they reached the main city. "Whereabouts is a good place for a pint and a warm meal?" he glanced out the side of his dark window before turning to her. "The rare kind, and the medium-rare kind."

Elizabeth met her sire's gaze with an intense glare as she huffed, "Two blocks over. A pub. Is this how you'd treat your  _bloody_  firstborn?"

Spike's grinned as he drove forward, "You tell me."

He parked outside a well-lit building where the pub was located. "Seems promising," Spike noted, ducking down as he peered out from Elizabeth's window at the storefront. He got out of the car and started to head around the vehicle towards it.

"Oh, thank God, land," Elizabeth pushed open the door as she tried to regain her footing on wobbly legs. "I could have sworn I felt my heart beating at one point," she frowned, quickly falling into step behind him.

As they entered the pub, it was clear that the majority of the seated patrons were men dressed in similar uniform as Spike.

Spike swept the area as he stood idly by the door, "What a lively bunch they make." He turned to Elizabeth with a sigh, "If anyone tries to converse with me, you'll have to take over the steering," he said in a low and hushed tone.

"Pray that it won't come to that," she followed closely from behind as he moved forward.

They found themselves in a dim corner, away from prying eyes.

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it, "Order us a couple pints and something hearty, will you, love? A local item, perhaps?" he puffed out a trail of smoke as he flagged someone down.

Elizabeth placed her order with the waitress, providing her a couple of rationing cards where she cut sections off listing the ingredients that needed to be made for their meal. The waitress made confirmations and left the table, just as Elizabeth seemed to be correcting her on something. Elizabeth sighed and kept her eyes lowered to the table as she removed her coat.

"What was that?" Spike asked.

"I've ordered us a meatball dish, served in a white sauce with capers and potatoes. It's very good."

"And?"

"Beer."

Spike raised a brow at her and waited.

"She thinks we're a married couple," she finally admitted. "Which is poor judgement, in my opinion. What if it the two were colleagues, or brother and sister?" her brows bowed, seeming to be upset by the women's assumption.

"Not that I could blame her, seeing as the way you're dressed up," Spike exhaled.

"My dress? I'd say that it's rather modest."

"Your lipstick. A woman only wears a shade like that if she wants to impress someone."

Thankful for the dim lighting, Elizabeth felt herself blush, "That's one of my  _last_ reasons," she said in her defense. "Red lipstick is very fashionable these days. And considering the hour and occasion, I thought it appropriate that I fit the part," Elizabeth said a little indignantly.

The waitress returned with their drinks which Spike gratefully received.

" _Danke_ ," he gulped at it greedily before wiping off the foam on his upper lip. "Hmm, you're probably right. She most likely struggled with the idea that you managed to catch a bloke like me. Couldn't put two and two together."

"I'd like to amend my statement; that  _is_  the last reason why," Elizabeth took a sip of her beer.

"If I had remained human, I'd have been married by now. Probably to a woman with a pretty smile and big feet."

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of that. "And I, if I had gone with it, I'd have been married off by my loving father to a stranger," she brought her mug to her lips, covering her wistful smile.

Spike scoffed, "I doubt you'd have gone through with it. Not sure if the description of that man was cut out for your high standards. If you ever did agree to it, you'd have had a miserable life."

"Perhaps," she sighed softly. "I suppose we'll never know."

"We've posed as husband and wife on more than one occasion," he glanced to her as he flicked off the ash at the end of his cigarette.

Elizabeth laughed, happy to be off the subject of her past, "Yes, our sham marriage."

"How long would you say that's lasted now?" he smirked. "Well," he exhaled, "an estranged one at that. Not exactly divorced, even though you've left me all these years for a witch," he smiled. He paused for a short while before speaking, "Dunno why you left," he began, his tone now serious. "I mean, I killed him- the Nicoise. He wouldn't have bothered you again," he said, glancing to her. It was with that small comment that he revealed he had been aware of the circumstances that their previous host had imposed on her, and having read a passage from her diary, confirmed it for him. Assuming that maybe she did not feel comfortable living there with a man that attempted to initiate a forced relationship while he was alive, might have been reason for anyone to leave. But Spike had fixed the problem and killed the instigator, yet she had still left.

Elizabeth was completely caught off guard by his words. She lowered her eyes and swallowed, "I… thank you. I just… needed to leave," she raised her gaze to his, hoping that he wouldn't ask her any more. She gripped her mug with both hands and drank from it as she directed her attention to the open floor. To learn that her sire had been aware of Maurizio's advances comforted for, especially when he had believed he had solved it by his death. It showed that he cared, something she thought would be an impossibility for him. But, even if she had known about that at the time, it wouldn't have kept her from leaving. That was a secret she could not reveal to him.

It became apparent to the Spike that his progeny was avoiding the subject. He was now convinced that maybe she hadn't been at all too happy with her living arrangements with them, and more specifically, him. He couldn't exactly blame her, considering the type of hell he had put her through the first couple weeks they were forced together. Letting the topic rest, he smiled lightly, "Well, being on your own seems to have done you some good. Can't say you're much of a mouse anymore. 'Been promoted to… a rat, perhaps?"

Elizabeth turned to him with an amused laugh, her smile returning, "Mouse is fine."

Their food arrived at that moment, just as Spike finished his cigarette.

"Shall we toast to something?" Spike pulled the mug towards him, keeping his grip on the handle.

"Hmm… old friends? Saving our fake marriage?"

Spike raised his glass, "To old friendships and fake marriages, then," he smiled, clinking it against Elizabeth's. He took in a large mouthful of the foamy, chilled beverage and swallowed, "Oh yeah, that's the stuff. I've missed German beer," he nodded, setting it down to pick up his fork and knife. He cut a piece of the rounded mounds of meat and ran it through the gravy before shoving it into his mouth, "Mm, so," he chewed, trying to finish off his first portion, "what was it like staying with that senile old witch? Did you find out whether 'Macbeth' was actually a cursed play?"

Elizabeth took sensible bites, "Gertrude is hardly senile," she corrected him, "she has a sharper memory than you and I combined." She took a sip of beer before continuing, "I learnt many things from her- gardening, darning, cooking; my German has vastly improved having someone to practise with on a daily basis," she left out the detail about some of the basic spells her witch friend had passed onto her. "As for 'The Scottish Play', she told me there was some truth to the superstition. The incantations used were not real; witches viewed this as a mockery to them."

Spike leaned forward, "So, is it cursed?"

Elizabeth smiled, "Dare utter the name 'MacBeth' onstage and tell me what happens."

Spike scoffed, "A pox on you!"

Elizabeth burst into laughter at his response.

"I'd say Shakespeare pretty much put witches on the bloody map and on the forefront of creatures to fear," he noted, pausing. "Though I don't understand why they wouldn't put a curse on him instead of the play," he shrugged. "Magical folk. Always have something to prove," he said with nonchalance as he took another mouthful.

"I'm surprised you remembered; I thought you would have forgotten about that," Elizabeth said with a little surprise to her voice, in reference to a conversation they had in the past.

He glanced up at her, "'Course I would. I'm a man of my word," he said with a small twinkle in his eye. It was unclear whether he was teasing, serious, or being sarcastically joking; it was sometimes hard to tell with him at times. "If you had stuck around long enough, you'd have found that out yourself," he carried on, looking back down as he minded his meatballs.

Elizabeth cast her smile downward as she cut her food into smaller portions. It was a strange feeling of familiarity between them, she found, despite being more than half a century apart. And as strange as it was, she felt comfortable with him. With the events that transpired that day, even though she fought against it, she trusted him. She peered up at him, "Perhaps we will run into each other again. The next war, maybe?" she teased.

Spike took a swallow of his beer and wiped at his mouth with his hand, "'Seems we've got Lady Fate bringing us back together under the most unusual circumstances, doesn't it?" he glanced back up at her. "Next war, eh? We'll just have to see till everything's all over, won't we?" he smiled. "We've already survived one, what's another? Or a few more, give or take."

Just as he had finished his thought, the piercing sound of sirens sounded over the low hum of the atmosphere in the pub.

"Air raid!" a German voice yelled.

Chairs were being pushed back as men stood and began to file out the door, getting ready to return to their posts to get deployed as directed.

Spike glanced about him before looking back to Elizabeth, "Best be leavin' now."

Elizabeth nodded and stood, quick to throw on her coat as her sire pushed himself to his feet to finish off his beer.

They headed towards the door as people pushed by, eager to be the first to leave.

When they managed to get out into the night air, the sirens echoed more loudly.

A man grabbed Spike by the back of the arm, "Hey, where are you off to? You're supposed to return to the bunker with the rest of us."

Elizabeth quickly glanced between them as she held her breath.

Spike just stared at him and simply nodded, thinking whatever he was saying, it would be best to make it seem as though he was agreeing- and it appeared to be the solution.

The man released his hold, "You must hurry," he demanded as he took off.

Spike turned to look at Elizabeth as he picked up his pace, "Some help you were."

Elizabeth scrambled after, keeping up with him, "I didn't have time to respond. It'd have looked suspicious for a woman to answer in your place."

"You've got a shelter at your cottage?" Spike asked, managing to get back to her car.

"A cellar."

They climbed in and shut the doors.

Turning on the ignition, Spike slammed on the gas and peeled out, "I didn't know you had one," he honked at the scrambling military as he sped around them through the streets.

"It's beneath a trapdoor in my bedroom," Elizabeth said breathlessly, hanging on again for dear life.

Spike turned to glance at her with a raised brow.

"What? Did you think we were all sharing the same bed?!" Elizabeth turned to him with a scowl, almost yelping as he made a sharp turn.

They found themselves on the safety of empty streets, but being rerouted took up some time as Spike had to find his way out of the city. When he finally managed to regain his sense of direction, he sped out onto the country roads where the sirens grew fainter but persisted.

A distant rumbling sound and a tremble in the ground was brought to their attention.

Spike glanced in the side rearview mirror to see a light glowing in the distance, "Don't think that was an actual bomb drop," he turned to look at Elizabeth, "they're a lot louder. I've seen one," he reassured her.

Elizabeth quickly nodded, paralysed in her state of fear.

Thinking that they were out in the clear, there came another unexpected sound- the sputtering of the dying engine.

"Oh…,  _bloody_  hell!" Spike grumbled. The car came to a rolling stop as he pulled to the side of the dirt road, some few miles from Elizabeth's cottage, and a few miles from the main road to Berlin. Along with food, gas had become an expensive commodity, and something that held precedence with the military over civilians. "Don't think you've had a fill on gas in a while, have you," he sighed.

Elizabeth put a hand to her head and hissed out of frustration, " _Scheiße!_ "

Slipping out, Spike slammed the door shut and leaned up against the car. He pulled out his last cigarette and lit it. "At least we've got a nice view," he looked up at the night sky as he dug his hands into his pockets.

Elizabeth exited the car and followed his gaze where she stood, "It is beautiful."

Spike hopped onto the edge of the hood and laid back against the windshield, "Yeah," he replied, scooping an arm beneath his head as he gazed up at the twinkling stars and the large glow of the partial moon.

Elizabeth moved forward and sat next to him, keeping her legs splayed to one side as she looked skyward.

They were quiet for a moment.

Spike sighed, "When Dru and I are apart, I'll stare up at the stars and moon when I start to miss her," he revealed after a short break from a drag. "I told her that was a way we could stay connected, 'cause we're still looking up at the same sky."

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her body as she listened to him quietly.

His voice was very matter-of-fact, as though he was simply saying something that wasn't as important as it seemed, but what he was telling his progeny was very intimate and dear to his heart. He continued to smoke as he stared up at the tiny pricks of glittering lights, not bothering to look at Elizabeth or saying anything else.

He suddenly sat up and turned his head towards the road from where they came, "Something big is coming," he looked serious.

Elizabeth turned to look.

Within seconds, the beam of headlights could be seen approaching, and the sound of a military truck was soon to follow after. As it neared, it began to slow.

Spike hopped off the car as the driver eyed him up and down, noting his Nazi coat, "Did you get stranded? Enough with romancing your woman, it's time to go. We're heading south, then we'll be crossing into France and Spain."

Elizabeth slowly climbed down and stood idly behind her sire with a small frown.

Spike's eyes lit up when he recognised the names of those countries. He turned to Elizabeth and smiled, "'Seems our time together has run out, mouse," he flicked his cigarette butt into the night air. Taking a step forward, he pulled her into a hug.

She let out a surprised squeak, completely taken off guard by his sudden form of affection. Her tension soon wore off as she relaxed in his hold.

"Next time, a proper goodbye would be nice," he said quietly by her ear.

Elizabeth's brows bowed as she realised what was actually happening. Her arms raised and wrapped around his frame as she held him back, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, "I will," she whispered.

Spike pulled back and turned on his spot, leaving Elizabeth to stand behind as she watched him step away from her. He rounded the perimeter of the truck and hopped into the open end of the hatch where other Nazis were seated. " _Heil Hitler_ ," he said to them in greeting before finding an empty seat.

The truck engine roared once more and rumbled off down the road, kicking up dust in Elizabeth's path. She watched it move away till it was only a glowing speck in the distance before vanishing from her line of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:**
> 
> Oh, hello.
> 
> Yep. That concludes this miniseries.
> 
> Thank you all for reading along, and for all you new readers that have decided to jump in with this story first in this series (I'll get to re-editing the first part, then it'll flow much better. In my honest opinion, I don't think the series needs to be read from the beginning to understand the dynamics of the characters. It's kind of just in medias res with each story, but with enough information to see which direction the plot and characters are heading. Though, if you want to understand why they say certain things or act the way they do (like I tend to do), the series should be read in its entirety.).
> 
> * * *
> 
> For some reason, I kept referring to Spike as a 'she' in this one. I… I don't know why.
> 
> I learnt how to play whist whilst looking up old card games. Not as complicated as bridge (in my opinion, which I still don't quite grasp), but it does require some skill with determining what cards to discard first, which is also dependent on your partner's hands. Look up a quick tutorial on YouTube and find an online game- you'll pick it up in no time.
> 
> The journal entry that Spike read is written in my drafts on Google docs (because I needed to make what was referred to here believable. More entries of her diary will be written later.). If you're interested in reading it, hit me up. I'll either post a link via Tumblr (hellfireandchurchbells), or just post the entry on the blog.
> 
> Fun fact: Re: That-whole-MacBeth-spiel (a refresher for the old readers, and giving context to the new): in the main story (chapter 14: Heaven-Haven: A Nun Takes a Veil) Spike and Elizabeth have a conversation about Shakespeare (having both discovered they both have an interest in his works) and MacBeth comes up. They make an agreement that when and if they meet a real witch, to ask them if there's any truth to the curse.
> 
> * * *
> 
> This chapter took a lot longer than I wanted/wished/anticipated/thought it would. Well, most of them do, but this one was nearly two months late (last update was Sept 6, today's date is Oct 28). I really do need to plan out my story and time better if I want to keep writing this series. On average, that'd mean one chapter every one and a half months, or eight chapters per year, LOL. Someone make writing my full-time gig… (seriously).
> 
> Which comes to my conclusion: I will try to keep this going. To the best of my ability. Which isn't much, but I'll give thought and well-developed plot and characters to the futures stories. I hope you guys will stick around to see what else I have to offer. It's been fun C:.
> 
> Thoughts, comments, and encouragement are always appreciated.
> 
> The next story will take place during the '50s. If you want to get updated on that, follow me ;).
> 
> Cheers, loves,
> 
> \- B.


	4. Bonus: Elizabeth's Diary Entry

September 9,1943

William has found me. After 62 years, he is seated in the next room, sleeping in an armchair in my home. I never fathomed this day would come, but he is here.

Seeing him again brought me back to Nice. I could see the vast and opulent vestibule, the white marble floors, and grand, winding staircase, even though I could feel my physical form standing at my cabin door. My past emotions were also transported, feelings of dread, fear, and being unsettled . . . things that I did not want to relive.

He came last night, assuming a new and ridiculous name—'Spike'—though I suppose it suits him to a degree, considering his disposition. He claims to have been led here by 'a whim'. It was all highly suspicious, but a man of his character is undoubtedly suspect. However, I cannot account for the similar occurrences we have both had—him dreaming of me, and I him. He contended it is a trait shared between sire and childe. It appears to manifest itself moreso within imminent proximity from what I can attest to. This is an ability I wasn't aware of, and even though decades have passed, I still feel so new to this world.

I didn't think to write an entry on the night he had arrived, seeing as he had proclaimed he was only spending a couple nights here (a self-invitation on his part), but with all the events that have occurred within only two days passing, I could not help but mention him.

He doesn't appear to have changed at all—callous, ruthless, ill-tempered, and obstinate. Other than dying his blond hair to black, and that scar on his brow he so proudly wears inflicted from a 'Slayer' (chosen women who hunt demons and the like—though I did not bother to delve more into the topic), he seems to be completely fixed in his state. It is because of his more than spritely nature that he has put him and myself in more compromising positions than one. His immobilised car, for instance, was what led the SS officer to my very door. And again, tonight, he almost had a bullet lodged in his brain when he followed me to the meat shop. I was lucky enough to have made the exchange before his appearance or Squirrel might have refused to give me any money at all!

It was also tonight that I needed to make the lift. Thankfully, I managed to bring the small family back to my home without any additional distractions. There was no other way of getting around this large detail with William. Had I gone with my initial plans, he would have found them in my home anyway if I had left him in the city to be picked up later. He agreed to ride with them (albeit, with a bit of reluctance), but I suspect it had to do with him being assuaged with fresh blood just moments before.

Now I must wait till tomorrow evening to ensure the family's safety. Even though they lie beneath me, encumbering any of his direct attempts, I fear allowing them freedom to roam about during the day. I cannot say that I entirely trust him, but I also cannot say that I do not.

Victor doesn't, but that is in his nature; Annabelle takes to him with warm reception, but that is also in hers. I couldn't nor wouldn't allow my guard to be so steadfastly removed, especially with him threatening Victor and Annabelle—and locking Annabelle in the cupboards! Recalling this causes my blood to boil! Yet, he promised he would no longer harm them (but not without being compromised by a mere cigarette lodged in his throat), and so far, he has kept his word.

This is why I cannot proclaim that I do not completely mistrust him. He speaks to me like . . . an old friend, which proves that he was never aware of what had happened in Nice. Despite our temperamental history, there were rare and fleeting moments where we shared a connection. And as I reflect on this, admittedly, I have missed him . . . and enjoy his company.

I will never be so blinded with naivete as I was in the past, but I cannot help but feel my guard lowering with him, and no matter how much I try to resist it, I feel I trust him a little more the longer he is here.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:**
> 
> I'd been thinking I'd just add this here as a 'bonus' chapter. If you noticed, I hadn't marked this story as complete in the last post (for the people that haven't unfollowed this story yet, here's a treat, lol).
> 
> On a totally unrelated topic, I finally learned how to put type an em dash on my Chromebook (just took me over two years, ha ha...). My writing style will change in the future. I think things will look more polished.
> 
> Thanks again for reading guys, and the continued support.
> 
> Oh, also, I'm offering beta services, just to kind of keep my own writing in check. I think it'll help me learn things along the way as well.
> 
> –B.


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